Zero option, p.14
Zero Option, page 14
“Well, these days you can never be sure, Senator,” Beringer said. “Only the other da—”
He cut himself off when he recognized the impatient expression on Stahl’s face.
“Do you recall instructing me to maintain a round-the-clock check on all of Saul Kaplan’s stored data relating to the Zero project, Senator?”
“Yes. Cut to the chase, Lewis.”
“Two days ago I picked up a data stream buried in some of Kaplan’s files. They were ones I’d managed to rescue after the attack on the Zero facility. There was a program that had been installed during the creation of the Zero concept. It was intended to back up and store files if a major purge of the system occurred. It came into operation automatically when the facility was hit and the computer banks started to disintegrate. The files were badly corrupted, and I didn’t think I’d get much from them. But while I was digging, I came across this hidden file. It had been buried so deep in the data stream there didn’t appear to be any damage to it.”
A slow burn of interest grew. Stahl saw the bright gleam of arousal in Beringer’s eyes. He knew that whatever Beringer had found was important. The man wouldn’t have come to see him if all he’d found was Kaplan’s laundry list.
“Take your time, Lewis, and tell me exactly what it is you found.”
Beringer reached inside his coat and removed a folded sheet of computer printout.
“It’s all here, Senator. Details of the Zero Option. Just to give you an idea what I have on disk. All of Kaplan’s run codes and number sequences. With this you can unlock Zero and gain complete control. Once you have Buchanan in that biocouch, the whole thing will drop into your hands.”
Stahl reached and took the printout. He unfolded the crumpled paper and scanned the columns of figures and text. It didn’t mean a great deal to him, but he understood it had to be the genuine article because of Beringer’s excitement.
“Why hasn’t anyone else found this, Lewis?”
“Because none of them are as good as me. They don’t have the skill to dig through something that has been damaged as much as these files were and extract them. And also because I hid the files once I located them. I transferred everything to my own system and created my own codes so no one could get into them. Then I wiped the whole database from the rescued files so there was nothing left to find.”
“And then you worked on them until you had the information restored? Very ambitious, Lewis.”
“Ambition isn’t your private domain, Senator.”
The sharp tone in Beringer’s remark caused Stahl to glance at him. There was a sheen of sweat on Beringer’s furrowed brow and a look of defiance in his eyes. There was something different about the man, Stahl decided.
“You have this data safe, Lewis?”
“Yes. It’s in my computer, safe behind a protected firewall. If anyone tries to break into the database, the firewall will simply delete the files. I also have a copy on a CD.”
“Not with you?”
This time Beringer actually smirked. “Do I look that simple, Senator?”
“Lewis, am I detecting a note of mistrust? I thought we were in this for altruistic motives.”
“Idealism won’t pay my bills, Senator. Without wanting to appear materialistic, I don’t have your limitless wealth.” Beringer waved his hand around the study. “This room on its own is probably worth more than everything I possess. I’ve proved my worth on more than one occasion helping to gather information and pass it to you. Which has been good for you, but all it’s done for me is, well, actually it hasn’t done a thing. Except place me at risk. Right now my department is one of a number being looked at closely. We’ve all heard there is an internal investigation into information leaks. I have a feeling my time at the department is running out, Senator.”
“Lewis, I told you I’ll protect you if anything happens. You have my word on that.”
“Your word isn’t going to protect me if I find myself locked up in a federal prison. What the fuck good is yelling ‘Senator Stahl will protect me’ when my ass is being groped by some two-hundred-pound guy named Bubba? Tell me that, Senator.”
“Let’s not get carried away, Lewis. Sit down and we’ll talk this through. Would you like a drink?”
“You’re not listening, Senator. And no, I don’t want a drink. Nor do I want to dance with you, or hold your hand while we gaze at the fucking Potomac. I’m in over my head because I imagined I was doing the right thing. Senator Eric Stahl—the man who wants to put the world to rights. Jesus, I must have had my head up my own ass to believe what you told me. I’m going to spend the rest of my life in jail if I don’t get myself out of this mess.” Beringer pointed a finger at the printout. “Get your experts to check this out. It’s a small part of the data I decoded. They’ll tell you it’s genuine. You want the whole thing? Fine. You can have it. But it’s going to cost you, Senator. Five hundred thousand dollars. I think that’s reasonable. A million would be better, but I’m not a greedy man. And I want it in cash. Not traceable new notes.”
“Lewis, this is a foolish thing you’re doing. We can compromise.”
“Oh? You going to offer me a personal check?”
“I was thinking more on the lines of you changing your mind. Lewis, I need you. We’re at a sensitive stage in the program. Losing you would make things difficult.”
“I can’t afford to be associated with you any longer, Senator. This is my only way out. As soon as you get the money together, give me a call. You have my number.”
Beringer turned, almost stumbling as he left the room. The moment he was out of sight, Stahl picked up the phone and dialed. He heard the front door shut with a bang as Beringer left the house.
“Orin? This is Eric. We have another problem. You’d better get over here fast.”
He put the phone down, shaking his head at this sudden, unexpected turn of events. Of all people he might have expected to pull out, Lewis Beringer hadn’t even been on the list.
STENGARD ARRIVED within the hour. He sat and listened as Stahl related what had happened.
“We’ll deal with this, Eric. You have Beringer’s address?”
“Yes.”
“Get it for me.”
Stahl crossed to his desk and opened a drawer. He took out a slim leather-bound address book and thumbed through the pages. When he found what he was looking for he handed the book to Stengard. The colonel read the information, looked back at Stahl and gave a curt nod. He reached for the cell phone he carried and punched in a speed-dial access number. When it was answered he spoke quickly.
“Ryan, write down this name, address and telephone number.” He gave the details, then said, “You’ll be able to bring up this man’s file on our database. His photograph will be there. Two objectives. One, Beringer has information relating to Zero on his computer system. And he also has a CD that holds files he’s rescued from the computer system at the Zero facility. The disk is extremely important. It holds access codes and information that can’t be found elsewhere. We need all that. Objective two, Beringer has, by his own actions, become a security risk. He wants money for the information he has. More or less threatened the senator with exposure if he doesn’t get what’s his. Let’s not disappoint Mr. Beringer. Get the information, then terminate the little bastard.”
CAL RYAN REPLACED the receiver. He reread the information Stengard had given him. Swiveling his chair, he tapped into the computer database and brought up the file on Lewis Beringer. He went to the photo ID and printed off a couple of copies. Pushing away from the desk, he crossed the room and went through to the lounge.
“Hecht, take Bodie and a couple of the others and get over to this address. Orders from the colonel. You’re looking for this guy. He’ll have a computer setup that you’ll have to bring back. And he’ll have a CD. We’ll need that, as well.”
Hecht examined the photograph. “What about him?”
“He doesn’t make it. Understand? That comes from the colonel.”
Ryan gave them the full story about Beringer, as related to him by Stengard.
LEWIS BERINGER’S Arlington home was set back from the road. It was reached by a narrow, unpaved lane that wound through tall, slender trees. The front yard of the house was in shadow. Beringer’s four-year-old Ford was parked in front of the house.
Hecht rolled the black SUV to a stop before he reached the last curve in the lane, and he switched off the engine. He and Bodie sat in the front of the SUV, watching the house. The other two members of the team sat in back.
There were lights showing in the majority of the windows of Beringer’s house.
“He scared of the dark or what?” Bodie asked.
“If I’d tried to run a scam on Stahl, I’d sit with all the fuckin’ lights on, too, and with a good supply of fresh underwear next to me,” Hecht commented.
Bodie slipped his Glock 21 from his pocket, checked that it was loaded, then took a stainless-steel combat knife from a pocket and held it up.
“He’ll give us what we want.” He turned to the men in the back seat. “Keep your eyes open.” He held up his compact transceiver. They were all carrying them. “If I call, come running.”
BERINGER PACED the living room. His stomach churned, and he kept breaking out in a cold sweat. He was nervous. Extremely nervous. Since returning home, he had become increasingly anxious about the outcome of his meeting with Eric Stahl. He knew the man’s capacity for extreme reactions to unwelcome situations. Beringer was still trying to accept what he’d said to Stahl. When he left the senator’s house, he had almost been physically sick. Beringer wasn’t a courageous person. Normally he was the kind who stayed in the background, maintained a low profile and kept his mouth shut. His association with Stahl had been exciting at first, presenting him with all kinds of challenges. He admitted to being in awe of Stahl and his outgoing personality. That had dramatically changed. With the current mood of suspicion in his department, the glamour had started to fade. Listening to office gossip, Beringer began to realize the seriousness of what he had been doing. His alignment with Stahl wouldn’t save him if he was found out as the mole in the department.
He was a traitor to the U.S. Government. He had taken highly classified information and passed it to Stahl, who wasn’t cleared to have such data. He had also used his computer access to get him into other government databases, enabling him to extract information Stahl wanted. Beringer’s familiarity with the Zero project had been the reason Stahl had paid him such attention. With the current problems Beringer saw he was nothing more than another of Stahl’s tools. His rosy image of Stahl had faded. The man was using him, Beringer, as he did others, simply for his own benefit. The special relationship was nothing. It was simply a way for Stahl to use people, making them think and feel that they alone were important to Stahl and his cause when in reality the man was sucking them dry.
“You were a damned fool, Lewis,” he said out loud.
The words echoed off the walls of the room.
He crossed to the cabinet where he kept his liquor and poured himself a large, straight vodka. Beringer downed it in one long swallow, then felt the tears well up in his eyes. He felt his throat constrict, and he began to cough, fighting for air. The vodka burned its way to his stomach. He steadied himself, then poured another large drink.
When Stahl paid up, it could be vodka for every meal. He would be able to…
Beringer thought about that for a moment.
What if Stahl tried to get the information without handing over the money? Would he do such a thing? The main question for Beringer was, how far would Eric Stahl go to obtain something as valuable as the information Beringer had in his possession?
There was no need to wonder about that for long. Beringer knew the answer. Stahl was obsessed with his political-military schemes, to the point, Beringer believed, where he would go to any lengths to achieve them.
He swallowed his second drink. A little unsteadily he crossed the room and went to the array of desks that held his state-of-the-art computer setup. It was something Beringer was extremely proud of. He had built it over a period of months, always on the lookout for next-generation peripheral. For the extra memory. He was going to have to leave it all behind when he moved on. He had accepted that at least. When Stahl gave him the money, he would need to abandon his home and travel, establishing himself in some new location. That wouldn’t be difficult with half a million dollars. He would take all his stored data in his laptops, his zip drives, and wherever he finally settled he would be able to continue to use his computing skills.
Bending, he opened a drawer in his desk and located the handgun he kept there. It was a 9 mm SIG-Sauer P-226. Beringer had bought the weapon a couple of years earlier, following local burglaries. He had only ever shot it at a firing range, taking a short course in gun handling. Normally he hardly ever thought much about the weapon, only taking it out to maintain it. Now he felt a definite security as he lifted the pistol. He took out the magazine and thumbed the top bullet to make sure the spring hadn’t jammed. He slipped it back into the butt, snapping it into place. Then he worked the slide to cock the weapon, then made sure the safety was on. He placed the pistol on his desk and went to sit down.
That was when he heard movement in the passage beyond the door to his room. He reached for the pistol, easing off the safety, and crossed to the door to listen.
GETTING INSIDE the house had been easy. Beringer had no security alarms or motion sensors. It hadn’t taken the pair long to establish that. Once they had got in through the kitchen door at the rear they moved quickly through the silent house, checking rooms as they went. They made little sound as they cleared each room.
It was as they moved toward the front of the house, approaching the door that would open onto the living room at the front, that Bodie spotted a moving shadow at the base of the door. He touched Hecht’s arm, indicating the shadow. It identified someone standing on the other side of the door. Close. Probably listening because a sound had penetrated.
Hecht caught Bodie’s eye, motioned for his partner to get the door open and braced himself to one side, his Glock gripped two-handed.
Bodie took a step back, turned his left shoulder at the door, then launched himself at the panel. The solid impact sprung the door off its catch and drove it inward.
THE DOOR SLAMMED into Beringer and sent him stumbling back across the room.
He caught a glimpse of two armed men coming through the door. One held a pistol in cupped hands, the muzzle swinging back and forth. The other had his weapon aimed at the floor as he recovered from shouldering the door open. Beringer decided he was the least dangerous of the two initially and swung his weapon toward the other man, pulling the trigger the moment he felt he had his target in his sights. The P-226 exploded with sound, the volume seeming enormously loud to Beringer. He felt the pistol jump in his hand, and he had to close his fingers tight against the butt to prevent it dropping.
The 9 mm slug caught Hecht in the right shoulder, shattering the bone as it passed through, taking a sizable amount of flesh with it. The impact drove him backward. He collided with Bodie, just as his partner pulled the trigger on his own pistol. The wayward slug plowed into the ceiling.
Bodie, pawing at the blood that had showered into his eyes, pushing his moaning partner aside. By the time he had cleared his vision, Beringer had vanished. Cursing wildly, Bodie charged into the room, searching for his target. He pulled out the transceiver he carried and thumbed the button.
“Beringer got away! He might be heading in your direction.”
BERINGER HAD DUCKED through the far door at the other end of the room, almost slipping on the wood floor as he ran for the front of the house. As he ran, fear propelling him forward, he became aware that he had left his CD behind. At that moment in time it was the least important thing on his mind. If he died, nothing would matter anyway.
As he made for the front door, he passed the entrance to the living room the two gunmen had used. It was still open and he caught a glimpse of the man he had shot. He was on his knees, hunched over, a bloody mass of pulped flesh and white bone protruding from the exit wound in his shoulder.
Beringer grabbed for the front door handle, almost missed it, then snatched the door open. As he stepped onto the porch, a gun fired behind him and a chunk of wood blew away from the door frame, splinters ripping his cheek. Warm blood started to course down his face. The sharp pain made him move again. He missed the second porch step and went down on his hands and knees, the pistol bouncing from his hand. A moan of panic rose in his throat. He lurched upright, spotting the SIG-Sauer in the pool of light from the house behind him.
As his fingers touched the butt, he heard a sudden volley of shots.
BOLAN HAD PARKED down the lane a distance, making his way on foot toward Lewis Beringer’s house, keeping to the trees for cover.
He spotted the parked black SUV. One man was standing beside it, while a second sat in the back seat, the door open. He was smoking.
Bolan unleathered the Beretta and took a moment to check out the scenario. Two men with the SUV. How many up front, or inside the house?
Then he heard the first shot coming from inside the house. The two men at the SUV snapped into action. The guy inside scrambled out, a handgun visible now. The man already standing reached inside his jacket and drew his own weapon.
Bolan heard a faint voice, which had a metallic twang to it. The guy who had been standing outside raised his left hand, revealing a small transceiver.
The final words of the message reached Bolan as he closed in on the rear of the SUV.
“…heading in your direction.”
Moments later the front door of the house was flung open, a figure briefly framed there. A shot sounded. The figure lurched down the steps, fell, losing the gun he carried. He remained on his hands and knees for a moment, then turned and reached for the gun he had dropped.
“It’s Beringer. Get the bastard.”
The man who had picked up the call on his transceiver stepped away from the SUV, his own handgun coming into play. He swung the muzzle in the direction of the man on his knees.
