Qubit, page 32
“Yes.”
“And we’re sure Li Mun is dead?”
“Yes.”
Haruo shook his head. “Great. Two years of work setting up the trade minister, and now we may have to start all over again.”
“At least we don’t need special ops.”
“I’m not banking everything on a gang war, Katya. Who takes over for Li Mun?”
“I’m not sure. Ong Goh thinks it might be the nephew, Li Sun. But there’s also a daughter, Li Shan. The SPF doesn’t have much on either of them.” After a moment, Katya decided to press on. “It would really help if I could report some progress about Lock’s daughter.”
“Oh, right. The Indian government is denying that she’s there.”
Katya shut her eyes, suppressing a yell of frustration. “But we have the sat intel.”
“They aren’t denying that she might have been there, at one time.”
“Any chance of a special op then?”
“Not much.”
“You know, if we do take out Vipul, they’ll kill her.”
“I realize that, Katya.”
“Do you?”
Quartan cocked his head in Katya’s direction, then stared back out at the horizon. “Katya, Lock was part of a conspiracy that crashed the stock market. I’m sending updates to Brack that are sent to the president and our allies on the hour. We have no termination options in place, and even if we did, I can’t guarantee that we even have the right targets. I can understand your concern for the daughter, but I sometimes wonder if you’ve lost sight of what’s at stake here, and who you’re dealing with.”
Katya leaned back over the railing, staring out at the lake. She felt like she might throw up. She hadn’t even told him that Lock was working all-nighters out of her apartment. Using a CIA-issued laptop, no less. Or, if she was being honest with herself, that she had gotten too close to him, and that, yeah, she had probably lost sight of the stakes, because somehow it made sense to her that maybe, just maybe, the way you saved the world was to save Sophie.
“So I’ve still got twenty-four hours?” she asked finally.
“Yes,” answered Haruo pleasantly.
“See you tomorrow then.”
“See you tomorrow, Katya.”
Singapore Financial District • South China Finance Group
Sunday, May 13th
9:00 a.m. SGT (Singapore Time)
Mohit Kandhari placed his briefcase on the floor next to his desk, as he did every morning. He went to the safe in the corner and punched in a long sequence of numbers. After waiting a moment, he opened the door to the safe and removed a laptop. He carried it over to his desk, sat down, and opened it up.
It was a Sunday, but Mohit didn’t mind coming into the office. He was well paid, and besides, Anand frightened him. And somehow, despite his small stature, Vipul frightened him even more. He ran his fingers unconsciously down the front of his silk V-neck. He owned a half dozen, all in muted colors, and never wore anything else into the office.
His fingers tapped away on the keyboard, windows materializing on the screen and slowly filling with text that would have been gibberish to most people. But Mohit knew he wasn’t like most people. He’d always been singled out. He liked to think that perhaps he was one of the best hackers in India. Maybe even the world.
This was just a routine check. Three times a day he checked the deputy machine and ran audit reports to make sure everything was in order. This was tedious, but it was also secure. And if there was one thing that Vipul had stressed, it was to make absolutely certain there was no possible way to compromise the security of his communications network. Mohit didn’t know what it was for, only that it had to be absolutely secure and couldn’t rely on anything that was vulnerable to quantum algorithms. And he had done what he was asked.
The deputy server had only one port open: SSH. And the only key was on this laptop, which he stored in a safe and on a thumb drive, which Vipul kept in another location that not even Mohit knew. The only other network connections that were ever opened were to make SMTP requests to send email, and the responses were parsed with code Mohit had written himself, merely to verify whether a given email had actually been sent or not.
He logged in and ran his audit script and then sat back and watched. As usual, nothing had come up. The SCS was impregnable.
Poletown, Detroit • Kafka's Apartment
Saturday, May 12th
9:15 p.m. EDT (Eastern Daylight Time)
Kafka sat in the darkness, staring up at a large monitor on his desk. He was trying to maneuver a tank over to the protection of an outcropping of rock. He spoke into his headset, furiously manipulating his game controller. “Okay, Delilah 97, you beautiful bitch you, I got you covered—”
“SSH session in progress; hijacking it now,” interrupted a clinical-sounding female voice.
“Oh shit. Delilah 97, honey, I love you, but I gotta step away.” Kafka slid his chair up to his desk and set aside the game controller so he could use the keyboard and trackpad. He pulled up a terminal window that was running a chat session on a private IRC server he and Lock had set up years ago.
Lock: He’s on. What do you want to do?
Singapore Financial District • The (New) Lab
Sunday, May 13th
9:00 a.m. SGT (Singapore Time)
The morning at the lab had been entirely uneventful. Lock had thought about catching up on his sleep, but he was too anxious. Raj and Sanjay were conducting a Battlestar Galatica marathon, willfully ignoring him. He was blinking in slow motion, half dreaming and half watching the crew of the Galactica cope with faster-than-light jumps every thirty-three minutes. He looked down at his laptop, as he’d already done a hundred times that morning, checking to see if Kafka had sent him a message. He had already resumed watching the big monitor when he realized there was a notification in the corner of his screen.
He opened a terminal window, connected the IRC server, and opened the chat room.
Lock: He’s on. What do you want to do?
Lock stared at the message. After Katya’s revelation earlier that morning that the CIA was planning on assassinating Vipul—and probably him, too—and thus signing his daughter’s death sentence, he’d been too upset to make a decision. Besides which, he needed to get back to the hotel, both to maintain the fiction with Sanjay that he was having a simple affair, and to make sure he was there in case Anand decided to check in on him. He still hadn’t come to a conclusion one way or another when Kafka’s message came through.
On the one hand, he’d been taking a risk just by talking to Katya in the first place. On the other, hijacking the SSH session was no different in principle than just going back to Detroit. It was basically an open act of confrontation, assuming that someone checked the logs on the server.
If Katya was to be believed, none of that mattered, because he was out of time to save Sophie anyway. In which case, any chance of saving her was better than none. But would Katya just say that to spur him into action? Everything came down to that. Could Katya be trusted?
Kafka sent him another message.
Lock: you there?
Kafka: Yeah. Just trying to decide what to do.
Lock: Hurry up. The sessions don’t usually last too long.
Lock stared at the terminal window. He thought about the night he’d learned that Ray wasn’t going to be able to put together a rescue mission. He’d gotten hammered on thirty-dollars-a-glass scotch, trying to drink himself into oblivion. Katya had dragged him up to his hotel room and made sure he’d gone to sleep. He’d overslept the next morning anyway, but at least he’d been in his hotel room, where Anand eventually rousted him.
Why had she done that? Was it just a matter of making sure her source didn’t drink himself to death? Did it really matter? Since they’d first met, Katya had been the only one to offer him real hope. And that was still true, regardless of her motivations.
If he couldn’t trust her, he was lost. And if he was lost, Sophie was lost.
He narrowed his eyes, his fingers slapping the keys decisively:
Kafka: Go for it.
Singapore Financial District • South China Finance Group
Sunday, May 13th
9:15 a.m. SGT (Singapore Time)
Mohit frowned as he interrupted the hung SSH session. Damn network, he thought. He retried the login command. Permission denied. That was strange—he’d logged in earlier with that same command. He felt himself becoming hollow inside. His hands grabbed onto the edge of his desk as though he expected the room to tilt.
This couldn’t be happening. It was impossible.
He retried the command again and again. Permission denied. There was no reason to think he would get a different result, but his mind failed to suggest any other course of action.
Finally, he stopped and simply stared at the screen, both hands covering his mouth.
He could shut down the box and bring up a clone. Vipul would never be the wiser. On the other hand, if the deputy box had been compromised…Vipul was bound to find out eventually. He closed his eyes. Please, he thought, this can’t be right.
He opened them again. He tried again to log in. Permission denied.
He sat up and looked around the office through the glass wall. Anand had just come in and was on the phone. No one else was in. He got up from his desk, leaving the laptop where it was, and walked casually out of the office and to the elevator. He took the elevator down, smiling nervously at a janitor. He got out when the elevator reached the lobby and began walking toward the front entrance. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number.
“Hello, father,” he said as he pushed through the front door. He looked up at the sun, which seemed to stare down at him like a giant eye. “Actually, I’m not—listen, please, listen very carefully, this is very important. You and mother and sister must pack up and leave… it doesn’t matter where, as far away as you can … you must go right away …”
Singapore Financial District • The (New) Lab
Sunday, May 13th
9:30 a.m. SGT (Singapore Time)
Lock was on the verge of asking Sanjay to take a break from the Battlestar Galactica marathon. His metabolism seemed to have slowed to a halt.
The terminal window flashed.
Lock: Deputy machine pwned. Looking for the keys.
Lock sat up, blinking with increasing speed, and leaned toward his laptop, his leg beginning to bounce up and down. Finally, another message came through.
Lock: Found the keys. Definitely an email deputy. Copying everything.
Lock had to suppress the urge to do a fist pump.
Kafka: w007!
This time, Kafka replied right away.
Lock: And also. This SSH hijacking shit is awesome.
Lock began typing commands frantically, closing all his windows and network connections. He sensed Raj looking over at him. When he was finished, Lock pushed his chair back and stood up.
“Raj, Sanjay,” he half whispered, only loud enough to be heard over Battlestar Galactica, motioning them to his desk. They took seats on either side of his laptop. Lock leaned forward conspiratorially, and Raj and Sanjay did the same.
“I don’t think I’m going to see either of you again,” he began.
Sanjay’s eyes widened, while Raj’s narrowed. “And why is that?” he asked.
“I can’t really go into it,” Lock said. “But you should contact Anand and ask him to meet with you. Right after I leave. Tell him I’ve been up to something. Sanjay, whatever you do, don’t mention the woman I’ve been seeing.”
“What woman?” asked Raj.
“Lock has a way with women,” explained Sanjay with a knowing look.
“Raj, you tell Anand that you’ve seen me working on something, but that I told you I was just fixing some bugs. But eventually you became suspicious. Sanjay, all you need to do is back up Raj’s story. Okay?”
“I don’t understand,” said Raj. “You want us to…tell Anand that you’re…”
“Tell Anand I wouldn’t tell you anything, and that’s why you’re getting suspicious. And again, Sanjay, I never left your sight. Okay? There was never a woman. I was with you the whole time.”
“Our secret,” said Sanjay.
“Trust me, Sanjay, it’s for your own good. Got it?”
Sanjay nodded somberly.
“Lock, what have you done?” pressed Raj.
Lock regarded Raj for a moment. “You don’t want to know. But it’s something that will probably upset Vipul a great deal.”
“Did you say Vipul?” asked Raj.
“Yes. Anand works for a man named Vipul Rathod.”
“Yes, I know,” said Raj irritably. “He’s the boss of the family. Lock, are you crazy? You’re going to get us all killed. Not to mention what will happen to our families.”
“That’s why I want you guys to go to Anand now. Tell him I left very suddenly—which will be true, by the way. When he gets here, you tell him I’ve been acting suspiciously.”
“He might not believe that we’re not in on it,” protested Raj.
Lock took a deep breath. “Raj, I don’t have any choice. This is the best I can do. Besides, it’s done now.” He paused and looked at Raj, whose face was contorted into a hostile sneer, and Sanjay, whose expression was a mix of confusion, disappointment, and fear. “I’m sorry, guys. I’m going to get my daughter back. You need to turn me in. That’s how it is. And I may never see you again. So…good-bye.”
Lock reached out his hand to Raj, who turned away angrily, his hands on top of his head. He turned to Sanjay, who embraced him awkwardly.
“Good-bye, Lock,” he choked.
33
* * *
Southbank, Singapore • Vipul's Apartment
Sunday, May 13th
10:45 a.m. SGT (Singapore Time)
Vipul watched Anand’s golem-like figure stride into his living room. He was reclining on his couch, wearing an oversized white robe, holding a glass of Sunil’s extra spicy Bloody Mary in the palm of his hand. A warm breeze blew into the spacious apartment from an open sliding-glass door, which revealed a still-waking city.
“Should you have that open?” asked Anand, who’d walked directly to the balcony.
“I’m thirty floors up, Anand,” said Vipul drily. “Bloody Mary?”
“No,” said Anand as he sat down in a large brown recliner. “Vipul, we have a problem.”
Vipul retreated back to the couch. “I gathered from your phone call. How do you manage to look so uncomfortable in a chair whose entire purpose is to make you comfortable?”
“Mohit has disappeared. I saw him this morning in the office and then he left and never came back. And he left the laptop open on the desk.”
“How do you know he disappeared? Maybe he just left suddenly.”
“Because I called him and he didn’t answer. And he hasn’t called back.”
“Well, it’s only been—”
“And also because Detroit has also disappeared.”
Vipul sat down. He blinked twice. “What?”
“Detroit has disappeared. I got a call from Raj that he needed to meet with me. I went to the lab, and he and Sanjay told me that Detroit had been acting strangely. They tried to get him to tell them what he was up to, but he wouldn’t. This morning, he went into the lab with them, but then he left. I checked his room at the hotel. He’s packed his things and gone.”
“So Mohit and Detroit have disappeared. At the same time?”
“Yes.”
Vipul stared out at the ocean, framed by the door to his balcony. “Fuck,” he said, taking a large swig of scotch.
“This is what you had always been afraid of,” said Anand.
Vipul’s eyes narrowed. “This is Detroit.” He pointed his drink toward Anand. “Mohit doesn’t have the nerve. But Detroit…he’s been a stubborn SOB from the start. Most people, you offer to make them rich and they’ll do anything. But this guy…why? Why do I have to find the one nerd in the world who thinks it’s a good idea to piss me off?”
Anand frowned and stared at the floor.
“Everything was going perfectly, too. Now…fuck. With Mohit’s cooperation, Detroit can take control of the SCS. He must have—he probably—but how’d he even figure out who we were? Maybe Li Mun?”
“It doesn’t matter right now,” said Anand. “What are we going to do?”
“You’re right, of course,” said Vipul. “I’m just frustrated. This was the whole idea of keeping everything separated, having Lock handle the market-making and Mohit handle the SCS.” He sighed deeply. “One option is…we hit the kill switch. But the opportunity cost for that…it would take us months to distribute new keys to everyone.” Vipul fell silent. He stood and walked toward the balcony, standing just in front of the threshold.
“I really wish you wouldn’t do that,” said Anand. “They could have snipers in a nearby building or something.”
“They don’t even know which apartment I’m in.”
“Just like Detroit didn’t know Mohit.”
Vipul grimaced and stepped away from the sliding-glass door. “Point taken.” He circled around behind Anand, walking slowly, swirling the scotch in his glass. “We have to assume the worst. That the network is compromised. According to Mohit, if that ever happened, someone could impersonate me and send instructions to the agents. So Detroit could, for example, send instructions to move money into a numbered account or something. But Detroit has never asked for more money, has he?”
“Not to me. And Kirin never mentioned it, if he did.”
“Would he go to the CIA?”
“That seems unlikely. He’s as implicated as you are.”
“So it’s purely a leverage play. What does Detroit want?”
“His daughter,” answered Anand.
