Stealth Insurgence, page 5
He nodded. “We’re working out the details with DOD.”
Zander held out his hand, and they shook. “You and Malware will be in our prayers, Mal. If you are ever in a jam, let us know. We owe you.”
“Big time,” I added, leaning in for a last hug.
WE DIDN’T GET THE LARGER moving trailer after all. On our way home from the dinner party-slash-baby shower, I opened the envelope I’d pried out of Mal’s hand. I removed four checks, two in my name and two in Zander’s name.
Zander had to pull over and administer CPR after my heart stopped and I passed out.
I’m kidding! But, he did pull over because he couldn’t believe the amounts I read to him. Screamed at him, actually. And incoherently. I’d never held half a mil before except in Monopoly money.
The individual checks for expense reimbursement were handsome and included a relocation package, both to and from Maryland; four months’ apartment rental; a daily per diem; and the Blue Book value for our car, split evenly between us.
Then our contractor fees. Apparently we weren’t independent subcontractors but rather statutory employees of Malware? Huh. News to us.
That’s what President Jackson meant by reminding us that Malware is a military contractor with funding allocated for their services. Zander and I were part of those services!
As Malware employees, Mal’s payroll person had withheld the necessary Medicare, Social Security, and state taxes, sending them to the appropriate tax “places” in our names, as well as some sort of contributions to Malware’s 401(k) with a fifty percent employer match. The only reason I could come up with that explained the amount on the “salary” checks after all these deductions was that President Jackson had requested that Zander and I, after taxes, would each receive $250,000. Someone had to have used some creative algebra to make that happen.
We were in shock. I’m not even sure how Zander got us back to our apartment in one piece. Perhaps the nanomites navigated. Anyway, by the time Saturday morning rolled around, we’d deposited our Malware checks into our joint account and had revised our moving plans.
On Saturday morning, instead of hitching up a trailer, we picked up the moving truck we’d reserved. With Zander following me, I drove the rental car back to the rental place and dropped it. We weren’t in a rush, having decided to leave town early Sunday morning instead of Saturday afternoon.
When Banner and Neo arrived midmorning with the load of baby gifts, they not only loaded them into the truck but helped us finish clearing out our apartment. Afterward, we treated Banner and Neo to lunch at our favorite Chinese buffet.
I waved to Ms. Wong as we went through the cashier line and promised her that we were leaving the DC area in the morning.
She seemed relieved.
Chapter 3
After we said goodbye to Banner and Neo, we checked into a very nice hotel suite, intending to spend our last night in Maryland in style—which we surely did. We swam in the hotel pool, soaked in our room’s private hot tub, got a twosome massage, and dined in their posh restaurant. An hour later, we ordered two of every dessert on the room-service menu.
It was awesome.
I waved a sad adieu when we pulled away from the hotel early the next day. I was considerably less sad when we jointly said farewell to the good and novel experiences we’d shared in and around DC and bid a solid “good riddance” to the danger and distress we’d experienced.
Set our eyes and hearts toward home.
Like I said, it took longer than we expected to pack up our lives in Maryland and head back to New Mexico, but the delay had been good for us. It allowed us to “decompress” from the strain we’d worked under, said strain being mental, emotional, and physical. The weight of protecting the President’s life and the future course of our nation had been heavy. I don’t think we appreciated how heavy it had been until we had been out from under it a while.
With the unexpected surfeit of ready money burning a hole in our checking account, we decided to take a little detour and have some fun on our road trip. We drove a full eight hours on Sunday, arrived in Williamstown, Kentucky, late in the afternoon, and checked into another (but more modest) hotel.
The next morning, after a good breakfast, we headed to our objective: the Ark Encounter. We had delayed our departure from Maryland to Sunday morning specifically so we could put in a full day’s drive and arrive in Williamstown that evening and be ready for adventure the following morning.
We spent the better part of Monday in the park. After touring the Ark and all the accompanying displays—which were amazing—we rode their zip lines several times and ate from their terrific restaurant buffet twice.
I loved it all—and I only threw up once that morning.
Yay me.
The next day, we hit the road, dropped down onto I-64, headed south toward the Florida panhandle, and settled in to a more leisurely pace. We needed the time and absence of stress to further decompress, to think about where we would live when we arrived in Albuquerque, and what work we would look for.
What could be better than a few nights on the beach? Destin here we come!
“All this cash in our pockets opens more doors, don’t you think?” I asked Zander. “We can move into a nice apartment and take our time job hunting. Speaking of jobs, have you given any thought to what you want to do?”
Zander was quiet for a few moments, and I let him have the time he needed before he answered. When he did reply, I was surprised.
“Think I’ll make an appointment with Pastor McFee as soon as we’re settled.”
“You want to go back to your old job at DCC?”
“Not particularly.”
That was the big surprise.
“Then why . . .”
“Yeah, exactly. Why. To tell you the truth, I feel like the Lord wants me to go see him—even though I don’t think I’m supposed to repeat my associate pastor role. It’s more that he and I have a conversation waiting for us, and I need to know that God has closed that particular door to me. Then I will be free to explore other avenues.”
“Um, okay. Do you have any direction from the Lord after that?”
He slowly nodded. “Not sure what shape it’s going to take, but I believe I will be teaching.”
“Teaching? Like, school?”
“Nope. Teaching the word. And in my spirit, it feels important. Sort of heavy. Maybe even urgent.”
He changed the subject. “What about you? With a baby coming, do you want to work or stay home? I guess we haven’t talked about that, have we?”
I laughed wryly. “You’re so not PC, Zander Cruz. Don’t you know that moms aren’t allowed to stay home and raise children these days? That’s what minimum-wage daycare workers are for.”
We chuckled at my sarcasm, but we hadn’t ever discussed the logistics of child rearing. Hadn’t, because we didn’t believe we could have kids. And up to this point? I’d been the bigger breadwinner.
“As much as possible and for as long as possible, Jayda, I’d like to support our family and let you stay home to care for our little one. I know this will be an adjustment—for both of us.”
“We have a decent nest egg to get us started. And, well, I have been noodling around, wondering what kind of ‘cottage industry’ I might try. People make their living online these days. Loads of options out there. And, Nano, I will need your assistance.”
We can help, Jayda Cruz. We, too, have been perusing suitable work ideas for you.
“Have you, Nano?”
In answer, a stack of website designs flashed before my eyes, each touting a different product or service.
“I see that you have given it some thought, Nano.”
We can do the majority of the work, Jayda Cruz, and ensure that you are successful.
“That would be cool, Nano—I like the whole concept. We can go through your suggestions as we settle in.”
Zander glanced at me. “Cool? I think it’s brilliant.”
“You’re not wrong—the possibilities are endless. Say . . .”
Zander glanced at me then back to the road. “What?”
It dawned on me that the nanomites had been, well, extraordinarily quiet while we were on the road.
“Um, Nano. What have you been up to?”
Up to, Jayda Cruz?
“Typically, you are, shall we say, chattier. What else have you been doing today?”
After a short pause they replied, We are monitoring various news outlets worldwide, Jayda Cruz, as well as the financial markets. Keeping abreast of national and world happenings. There is a sizable amount of information to sift through, but we are learning great quantities of things.
Connectivity for the nanomites was a negligible problem these days. They rode our phones’ cellular networks (without using up our monthly data plan), but they also, nearly effortlessly, hijacked any Wi-Fi or cellular connection we passed, jumping from one connection to another or riding several simultaneously. I had often noted in the past how the nanomites rocked the digital world.
They were so far beyond that today, closer to ruling the digital world than I had the courage to admit. The two nanoclouds being physically tied to us did limit them somewhat—not a bad thing, in my estimation.
“Find anything of interest?”
It is all of interest, Jayda Cruz.
“Huh.”
The drive gave us time to discuss, too, how we would announce our happy news to our family—to Zander’s parents and siblings, to Abe, and to Emilio.
Emilio! I was particularly glad we would be seeing him soon. Yes, I was growing a new life in my womb, but that made Emilio no less “my boy,” our informally adopted son. I couldn’t wait to hug him.
“You know,” I murmured as we pulled in for lunch on the far outskirts of St. Louis, “We have money. We could buy a house.”
“Hey, that’s a great idea.”
ONLY ONE EVENT DISTURBED the tranquility of our cross-country drive. After playing and lounging on the white sands around Destin for three days, we angled our way back north, cutting through Shreveport, then over to Dallas, and north from there. We were nearing Oklahoma City, our last stop on the way home, when my phone rang.
Jayda Cruz, Dr. Bickel is calling.
I had the nanomites route the call to the warehouse so Zander and I could both listen and talk. A happy grin lit my face when I picked up the call. “Dr. Bickel! Can’t wait to see you; we’ll be back in New Mexico by this time tomorrow.”
Dr. Bickel’s voice on the other end wasn’t as happy as mine was. “Jayda, can you ask the nanomites to wipe out all traces of this call when we’ve finished talking? They can do that, right?”
Jayda Cruz, you know we can. Please assure Dr. Bickel that no trace of an outgoing call from his phone or an incoming call on your phone will remain.
“Uh, consider it done, Dr. Bickel. Why? What’s wrong?”
“I think we’ve been hacked, Jayda.”
“Wait—who’s been hacked?”
“Sandia—in particular, the AMEMS network. Specifically, my private node on the AMEMS classified network.”
AMEMS stood for Dr. Bickel’s department, Advanced Microelectromechanical Systems. The department I had worked in. Twice. Once as Gemma Keyes, once as Jayda Locke.
“You think you’ve been hacked? You aren’t certain?”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure, all right, even if Sandia and DOE’s cyber security people say they can’t figure out how. See, I started with a little program called Tripwire, then I enhanced it. The program runs every evening when I log off my department’s R&D node. It snapshots the node so that I have an actual image of the name, size, and date stamp of every folder and file on that network node.”
“Okaaaay.” Obsessive much?
“Jayda! I trust no one. I’m the only person in the world with access to that node! I’ve even locked out DOE’s IT and cyber security wonks to ensure the security of my research.”
I exhaled. Slowly. Zander glanced at me and frowned, then returned his eyes to the road.
I knew what he had to be thinking. How in the world would you do that, Dr. Bickel? I mean, how can an employee lock the government’s network guys out of the government’s own network? That’s not even possible, is it?
Then I remembered: Dr. Bickel had programmed the nanomites—before they added to his initial programming, of course. Nevertheless, Dr. Bickel’s computer skills were so good that if he ever decided to hack the Pentagon, I’d advise President Jackson to change the launch codes ASAP.
I blew out another breath as Zander caught the freeway exit leading to our hotel. “You said your program flagged an intrusion?”
“No doubt in my mind. Four instances of file size changes, all four within an hour last evening.”
“They didn’t download then erase your data?” Setting you back years?
He snorted. “No, but even if they had, I have a backup drive in my vault.”
“So, you think you’ve been hacked. Can you tell what they took?”
“That node contains one hundred terabytes of current research and development data. The only good thing is that the nanotechnology R&D contained on that node is applicable only to healthcare—nanomedical haemobots, dumb, single-purpose nanobots, capable of only one function, such as seeking out cells of a specific cancer. Their programming cannot be hijacked.
“And Jayda, you know that I uploaded the design data pertaining to the smart, learning nanomites to Alpha Tribe. I destroyed every other copy of that data so it could not be stolen and misused. Ever. Which is why I need the nanomites to erase this call. I don’t want to leave any kind of link between me and thee—since I know someone has been snooping in my research.”
“Does that mean you won’t have Christmas dinner with us?”
Immediate turnabout in Dr. Bickel’s attitude.
“What? Well no, it doesn’t have to mean that. We could arrange a place to meet and the nanomites can hide me when you pick me up, can’t they? That way, no one would know I’m there. You do know I’d dearly love to help with Christmas cooking!”
I laughed softly. “Yes, we can work out the details. But you’re saying you are convinced that the data on your healthcare nanos has been taken?”
“I have to assume so. It’s a significant breach of DOE’s cyber security, Jayda, either by the Chinese or Russians. Maybe the Ukrainians.” I could hear him grind his teeth in frustration.
“And you won’t know who . . .”
“We won’t know who until they win the Nobel prize—before I do.”
We hung up with Dr. Bickel, and the nanomites finished wiping all traces of the call. It wouldn’t show up on either phone’s call log or on our service providers’ logs.
Our call had never happened.
But that didn’t erase his news: Someone had breached Dr. Bickel’s network node.
Chapter 4
Zander remembered the gutter that ran across the road where the street, without much warning, dumped into the cul-de-sac. He braked gently, taking care not to brake too hard and jar the truck’s contents—although I knew his real intention was not to jar the wee one I carried in my womb.
Did I mention he would be a doting daddy?
The truck made a slow traverse of the cul-de-sac, not unlike taking a victory lap. We were home!
We passed the Tuckers’ first, on our right, then Mrs. Calderón’s house. I watched her windows, looking for telltale movement.
There. The blinds moved incrementally. No doubt, Mrs. Calderón was studying our moving truck in return, wondering who we were and what we were doing.
Then we slid by what remained of my former home.
In the lot where Gemma Keyes had once lived, a broken cement slab surrounded by weeds marked where the house had stood. Courtesy of the City of Albuquerque, a company that specialized in junk removal had hauled off the debris. My old, detached garage, set back from the street, remained standing, but it, too, was surrounded by weeds.
My alter-ego, Gemma, had no relatives who could claim the lot, so we didn’t know what would become of it. I certainly could press no claim to it. The City of Albuquerque would most likely petition the courts to rule on the lot’s disposition, then put it up for sale and pocket the proceeds.
The nanomites were quiet as we glided by. Were they recalling the day General Cushing had blown up the house—taking herself, my sister Genie, Aunt Lu’s cat, Jake, and a million or so nanomites with her? I knew I was.
I blinked back tears and forced my eyes ahead to the next house over. Another blink. The words FOR SALE swung lethargically from the yardarm of a realtor’s sign embedded in the grass.
“Wow. Guess Mr. and Mrs. Flores gave up.”
“Hmm?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Flores. Looks like they’ve moved out, put their place up for sale. They were getting older, but they have kids and grandkids all over the country. Maybe they have gone to live near some of them.”
Zander completed the circle, pulled up in front of Abe’s house, and turned off the engine. We got out, both of us looking around. Well, Zander was stretching his back and legs. I was the one doing the looking.
The house and yard next to Abe’s bore the sad face of abandonment. Emilio’s uncle, Mateo, would not be coming back, so no one lived there.
I ran out of interest in the neighborhood when Emilio burst from Abe’s house like a shot from a cannon. He shouted like a banshee, “Jayda! Jayda! Jayda!”
Then he plowed into me with all the force of that figurative cannon shot. I hugged him as hard as he hugged me, kissing the top of his head—or thereabouts, the actual top being suddenly too high for my lips to reach. He turned from me to Zander, hugging him, too, then back to me, sniffling the whole while.
