The game master, p.15
The Game Master, page 15
“Glad to see that math PhD paying off. An arithmetic sequence exists when the same difference exists between each of the numbers.”
A geometric sequence exists when the next number in the progression is obtained by multiplying each number by the same number.”
And the harmonic sequence consists of at least three numbers that are harmonically proportionate. Meaning they follow the formula: a/c = (b-1) (c-b).” He pointed to a series of numbers on the board. “See? It’s easier to visualize than to explain.”
“That seems like a much more difficult way to win than the others,” Linden commented.
“It is. But in Rithmomachia, a more complicated victory was a source of pride. Victoria magna—the great victory—only required three pieces in an arithmetic arrangement, but no player with any self-respect would be content with that. Victoria major—the greater victory—required any two of the progressions. And Victoria excellentissima—the greatest of victories—required all three.”
“So that’s how a real man wins.”
“Exactly. If I recall correctly, Dinky’s hero Thomas More played this game. It’s rumored that when he played Henry VIII—”
“And now let me remind you that the lectures can be saved for when we are not breaking the law.” She glanced out the window, careful not to disturb the shutters. “I’m worried that the gendarme will return.”
He flattened himself on the floor so he could view the board at eye level. “I note that these pieces are not in the starting position. When the game begins, all pieces are lined up on the edges, sort of like a modern-day game of Stratego. And four of the pieces are not where they should be. The numbers are wrong, too.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“So I assume those are the ones I’m supposed to focus upon. Applying the math, we get four numbers: thirty-one, twelve, twenty-nine, fifty-five.”
“And they mean?”
He typed the four numbers into the Notes app on his iPhone. “Depends on how you read them. Since we’re all Americans, I’m going to assume he wants you to read them as you would a book. Left to right.” He pursed his lips. “In the world of cryptography, four two-digit numbers could conceal enough information to describe an assassination plot. I could encode plans for building nuclear weapons in four numbers. I could—”
“But what’s the message here?”
“I think—”
He heard a clicking sound.
He turned slowly.
And saw the driver standing behind them. The man who’d rescued them from the Bibliothèque.
The man who now held a gun pointed at Linden’s head.
51
Twenty-four Hours Before
Chun strode into Supreme General Yoon’s office. He did not prostrate himself. He did not bow. He did not even salute.
Because he had no reason to do so.
Yoon glanced up, displaying little interest. The attractive, much younger, dark-skinned woman draped across his lap occupied more of his attention. “Chun? Do we have an appointment?”
“No, General. But we need to discuss matters of vital interest to the welfare of this great nation.”
Yoon’s irritation could not be more apparent had he held up a sign. “Make an appointment.”
“I’m here now.”
Yoon pulled away from the woman nibbling on his neck. “Let me say this again, Chun, so the desires of your superior officer will be clear. Make an appointment.”
He could remember a time when the slightest hint of Yoon’s disapproval would have been enough to send him scrambling to make amends. But that was long ago. He was no longer the unloved boy who endured daily struggles for survival throughout the Great Famine. That world was relentlessly indifferent, even cruel, to him. He was an adult now, an adult committed to creating a better world than the one he had known.
And he was not going to let this fat brass hat stand in his path.
“I am sure your consort will not object to a brief discussion of matters of state, General Yoon. Particularly when there is pressing need.”
Yoon tossed the woman off his lap. She let out a small yelp. “You presume too much, Chun. I have given you the freedom of my palace because you have proved useful to me. But you are not irreplaceable.” Yoon’s eyes narrowed to tiny slivers. “No one is irreplaceable.”
He met Yoon’s gaze directly. “I feel exactly the same way.”
“I give you sixty seconds, Chun. Then I call in the General’s Guard.”
“This won’t take nearly so long. All I want is the Device.”
Yoon’s chin lowered. His steady gaze evolved into a slow burn.
“We both know you have been a figurehead for years, Yoon. I run the military. And perhaps most importantly, I run the scientific research that is about to usher this great nation—though not as great as it should be—into a new era.”
“These words are treason.”
“These words are truth. I am willing to let you remain in your current position, so long as you do not get in my way. But our nation can no longer be content to play the role of the wild cannon, the insane unpredictable threat. We have the power to be a dominant player in world politics, provided we make the correct moves at the correct time. And so long as I am in charge of the military, we will.” He paused. “But I need the Device.”
“You plan to achieve this delusional world dominance by launching nuclear missiles?”
“If I must. But what is necessary at this time is that the United States believes I am capable of launching nuclear missiles. That they believe I am ready, willing, and perhaps even eager to launch nuclear missiles. For that to happen, it must become known that I have the Device. I must be seen in public with the Device. I must be photographed peering down at the Device, as if debating whether to punch in the codes that will bring the world to war in the blink of an eye.”
“You are insane, Chun. Dangerous and insane.”
“To the contrary, General. I am the most rational man in the room. Probably in the military complex. Because I am guided by the logical analysis of existing data. More data than you can conceive of mastering. A thousand variables. A billion. All strategically arranged like pieces on a chessboard.”
“You have delusions of godhood.”
“I have no delusions at all. But godhood might be increasingly accurate.”
Yoon rose to his full height. Which was almost a foot lower than Chun’s full height, even in his thick-heeled shoes. “This is your last chance to save yourself. Swear fealty to me. Beg my forgiveness.”
“Or else?”
“I will have my Guard in here in a matter of seconds.”
“Just give me the Device. If I knew where it was, I’d have already taken it. Since I don’t, I need you. But my patience for games is not infinite. When I can see the end, I tend to gloss over the intermediate moves. Give me the Device.”
“The Guard will cut off your balls and stuff them down your throat. Every loyal member of my Guard—”
“Is dead.”
Yoon fell silent.
“Slaughtered while they slept. Nerve gas delivered by a targeted transmission field developed by my friends in Greece. Something new, though derived from the Russian BX9 gas that killed almost a thousand people in Moscow.”
“You expect me to believe you have assassinated my entire Guard?”
“It matters very little whether you believe it. The fact is, they are all dead. While my private army is very much intact. So I will be assuming control of the military. And our weaponry. And I intend to use them both.”
“You are talking world war. You are talking holocaust. Millions of deaths.”
“Billions. The blood will run deep—for a time. But when the dust has settled and the carcasses are buried, we will see the dawn of a new age. A utopia. The likes of which few have even dreamed. And the likes of which only one man—me—has the ability and foresight to build.”
“I will put you down like the rabid dog that you are!” Yoon reached into his coat pocket—and found nothing.
From behind his desk, the beautiful dark-skinned woman—Rani—glided across the room. She held Yoon’s PDA in her hand.
“Looking for this?” She slapped Yoon across his face. “Get down on your knees and beg, you pathetic dog. You have always disgusted me. Now I will treat you as you deserve to be treated.”
Chun leveled a gun. “I have been told by my associate that you have a certain fondness for pain, General. So what comes next may be pleasurable for you. Though I very much doubt it.”
52
BB smiled at the man holding the gun. “We could use a ride, my friend, but we’re not ready to leave yet.”
“Last time you left in such a hurry,” the driver said in his clipped British accent. “Before I could say my farewells properly.”
“Is that why you’re here? To collect your fare?”
“I want those numbers.”
“Then ask your boss. I’m sure he’ll be happy to provide them to you.”
“He only thinks he’s my boss. Give me the numbers.”
“Okay, I’ll write them down for you.”
“I hope you will not be offended if I say that I do not trust you. Give me your phone.”
Linden’s ashen face trembled. She looked as if she might pass out.
The driver pushed his gun forward, shoving Linden’s head back. “Give me the phone. Or she dies in the next five seconds.”
He handed the man his iPhone. “How did you find us?”
“You have never been out of my sight.”
“Why did you wait this long before you intervened?”
“I wanted to make sure you obtained the desired information first.”
“Why? What are you going to do with it?”
The driver slipped the phone into his shirt pocket. “Perhaps you believe I am just an ignorant chauffeur and lackey. I assure you that is not the case. I am quite intelligent. And I work for an organization that has been involved in this intrigue far longer than you.”
Linden raised an eyebrow. “But apparently none of you know how to play Rithmomachia.”
“I do not waste my life playing stupid games.” The driver shifted his aim. “Your time is coming to an end, Game Master.”
“Hey,” he said, holding up his hands. “I gave you the phone. You said you’d let us go.”
“No, I did not. But I will make your deaths quick and clean.”
“That’s decent of you.”
“You have no idea what is at stake here. You play with titanic forces long in conflict that now—”
A shrill, piercingly loud alarm sounded. The driver started. The muscles in his arms and neck tensed.
The driver was only diverted a moment, but that was enough. Linden slammed a clenched fist onto his wrist, knocking the gun downward. The driver fired, but the bullet hit the carpet. Linden pivoted, swinging as she advanced. She led with her left, slamming her fist into the driver’s neck. Barely an instant later, her right elbow smashed into his nose.
His hands moved to his face.
Linden knocked his hands aside, wrapping her forearm around his neck and forcing his head downward. She raised her knee with the sudden impact of a battering ram. It smashed into his already damaged nose, splintering the cartilage. Blood and flesh spurted in all directions.
Linden yanked the driver’s head upward by the hair. She jammed the flat of her hand under his jaw. His head whipped backward, slamming into the wall. His eyelids fluttered for a moment. Then he crumpled to the floor.
BB stared at her, lips parted. “I am so glad I never complained about your cooking.”
“Help me.” Together they rolled the driver over.
He retrieved his phone from the man’s pocket.
“He won’t be out long, BB. I didn’t hit him that hard.”
“Looked pretty darn hard to me. Have things gotten a lot tougher in the math department?”
“I’ve been studying Shodokan Aikido.” She grabbed the gun and placed it in her satchel. “Girl can’t be too careful these days. Was that your cell phone making the racket?”
He nodded. “I’ve got a one-button app that sounds an alarm sixty seconds after being activated. Useful when meetings are boring you to death. I pushed the button before I handed it to him.”
“I knew you were stalling for some reason. So I was ready to take advantage of the diversion when it occurred.”
“This man is out like a rock. What did you do to him?”
“After I was sure the gun wasn’t trained on you, I went after his nose. I don’t care how tough your attacker is—hit him in the nose and he closes his eyes and raises his hands. It’s instinctive and almost impossible to prevent. That gave me the opening to shove his head down and smash his forehead, also guaranteed to incapacitate. A blow to the jaw, properly executed, will almost always induce unconsciousness. It jolts the brain stem, which causes it to immediately terminate all non-essential functions.”
“The well-educated woman’s approach to kicking butt and taking names.”
“Basically.” She heard noise outside the door. The elevator was moving. “I think we’re about to have company. Let’s get out of here.”
They raced into the hallway outside Ogilve’s office.
The light above the elevator door lit. Following the bell chime, the doors opened.
Two gendarmes, including the man they had seen before on the street, entered the hallway.
BB grabbed Linden’s hand and tugged her the opposite direction. “Run.”
53
Twenty-four Hours Before
Chun was not surprised that Supreme General Yoon did not hold up well under torture. Not much effort was required. A few blows to the solar plexus with a hammer, a few removed fingernails. Rani drew pictures on his chest with her stiletto. Nothing lethal, but she made sure he felt it. She’d been toying with Yoon for some time—while he mistakenly thought he was toying with her—and she exacted her revenge with relish. Before long, Yoon revealed everything Chun needed to know to hasten the transfer of power, including the protocols and passwords controlling the air and naval fleets.
He also opened the safe where Yoon kept the digital transmitter that could launch North Korea’s nuclear arsenal.
The Device.
“Fool,” he muttered to the bleeding prostrate commander spread across the carpet. “This should be on your person at all times. Other leaders will only respect you if they fear you.” He memorized the codes, then destroyed the notes. “With this, I can dominate them all.”
He held a speedy meeting with the leaders of the various platoons in the new combined armies. Declarations were drafted declaring him the new acting Supreme General. President Kim’s signature would be required to make it a permanent appointment. But the ultimate outcome was a foregone conclusion. So long as he had control, he didn’t much care what his title might be.
Once they were ready, he ushered in a select member of the government-controlled news media, a slender telegenic reporter he knew he could trust to do and say what she was told to do and say. He brought her into Yoon’s former office, pulled out a chair for her—ignoring the blood smears on the carpet—and took his position on the opposite side of the desk. In the General’s chair.
Not bad for a boy from a village in the valley of the Baekdu volcano region, a village so small it did not even appear on the official maps. Once he had struggled just to eat. Now he sat in the most powerful chair in the nation.
“We have obtained incontrovertible evidence of Yoon’s treason. He received financial payments from representatives of the American intelligence community, whom he aided and abetted on several key occasions, weakening the Korean defense and making us vulnerable to the Americans’ aggressive warmongering. Rest assured that Yoon will suffer appropriate punishment.”
The reporter waved to her cameraman, signaling him to move in for a close-up.
Chun placed the Device on the desk, just before him, knowing the leaders of the superpower nations would know what it was.
“Are you declaring war on the United States?” the reporter asked.
“The United States has already declared war on us. We will do what we must to defend ourselves, not only against them, but against all hostile nations. If we are pushed, we will push back. We will protect Mother Korea.”
“Do you believe Korea’s allies will support your actions?”
“I know they will. The world map is changing. The actions taken in the days to come will change this world, permanently and dramatically. The transition will be difficult for some. Complex. Perhaps even bloody. But always for the greater good.”
“But if the world changes so dramatically, no one can be certain of the outcome.”
No one, he thought, smiling. Except me.
54
BB pulled Linden toward the stairs. He could hear the gendarmes’ footsteps, much too close behind them. Once they were through the door to the stairwell, he took the driver’s gun from her and fired in the general direction of the officers. They scattered. He fired a few more rounds, aiming toward the ceiling. He didn’t want to harm them—but they didn’t need to know that.
He bolted toward the ground floor, two steps at a time. “I bought us about ten seconds with the gun. Let’s make the most of it.”
“We could just tell them the truth. Dinky might not press charges.”
“We broke in here a few hours after we trashed the national library. Then you practically killed a chauffeur. Oh, and I just shot at police officers.” He swung himself over a railing. “I don’t think we should turn ourselves in.”
He knew he didn’t have to remind her they were working under a deadline. He didn’t have to look at his cell to know where the countdown stood. Fewer than fifty hours until his mysterious correspondent said Kadey would be killed.
A few moments later, he heard the door on the top floor open. The gendarmes were back in pursuit. He thought they might take the elevator down and head them off at the pass. They probably didn’t want to risk letting the fleeing felons out of their sight. Or perhaps they split up. He had no way of knowing. And he didn’t have time to investigate.
