77
Indian Summer. Janet had grown up in the northeast where that term meant a late fall return to warmer weather. Here in the high desert of New Mexico it had taken on a whole new meaning. Late summer storms had become a daily occurrence, their arrival presaged by towering thunderheads trailing curtains of rain, stabbing at the ground with their jagged spears of lightning and shaking the canyons with the heavy rumble of thunder. The wall of thunderheads building in the distance showed every indication of delivering another of the violent performances that made her wonder if the small hogan could remain standing.
Janet loved the storms for the diversion they provided from the strands of loneliness with which her isolation bound her. Jack had been gone for three weeks. Like some great crocodile sliding into the Nile, he had departed, leaving her alone. And although she had not heard from him directly, she knew he was out there somewhere back east. He had given her specific instructions to stay put and stay focused, correlating the pieces of the puzzle as she hacked her way through secure networks around the globe.
So Janet had stayed, making use of the quantum twin link to their source's magical Internet gateway. She still had no idea what technology enabled her to enter a precise coordinate and then connect to any network at that location. The systems that attracted her interest were all highly classified networks, physically isolated from any type of external access and protected by the best shielding that could be constructed.
But, despite their layers of protection, the classified networks she targeted might as well have been broadcasting an open Wi-Fi signal. It was as if she had just plugged a Category 6 cable into the remote hub. Once she was in, the data access was easy. Hardly anyone bothered to encrypt data on the network, so confident were they in the protection provided by the network itself. Unfortunately, that was where the easy part ended. There was so much data to search, so many subnets to access, that finding the clues she needed was daunting.
If Janet hadn't been quite as good as Jack knew she was, the task may well have been impossible. It was one of the reasons he had left her here, in the most secure location available to them, a place that provided no distractions from her task.
Janet pushed back from the laptop and glanced down at her stomach. She was starting to show. Somehow, Jack had seen it weeks ago. He had actually seemed pleasantly surprised that she was pregnant, a response that had shocked her to her core.
Not that she had expected him to fly into a rage or anything like that. Jack never lost control. Janet wasn't really sure what she had expected, just not happiness. But then again, maybe she had misread him.
Standing up, she moved outside the small hogan that had become her home, at least for the indeterminate future. The wooden windmill spun in the gusty afternoon breeze, the rise and fall of the pump shaft producing a rhythmic thumping sound as it performed its dual duty of filling the tank with water and driving the small electric generator, which provided the trickle charge to the batteries.
“Ya’at’eeh.”
The Navajo greeting turned Janet toward Tall Bear as he stepped out of the juniper thicket some thirty feet east of the hut. Over his shoulder, he carried a large burlap bag.
“Tall Bear. It’s good to see you.” Janet smiled as she moved toward him. She doubted if anyone else besides Jack could slip up on her unnoticed the way Tall Bear could.
“I figured you would be getting low on groceries,” he said, pausing just long enough to return her hug before ducking into the hogan to set down the heavy bag. Straightening once again, Tall Bear nodded. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”
Janet’s laugh brought the hint of a smile to his lips.
It had become a standard joke on these delivery visits. The hogan was a typical eight-sided female hogan with log walls, dirt-covered roof, dirt floor, and no windows. Its single door opened to the east in order to welcome the dawning of the new day. At one time, it had been the principal type of Navajo family abode, and although still common, they were rarely used for housing anymore. This far back on the reservation, the old building, the accompanying small mud sweat lodge, windmill, outdoor mud oven, and water trough might as well have been invisible, so well did they blend with the rugged canyon country that surrounded it.
The only furniture was the small square table, four wooden chairs, and a wood-post double bed. Janet had taken a couple of the tanned deer hides from the walls and spread them out as rugs. She had also fashioned a lampshade of sorts for the bare bulb, which dangled on a cord from the ceiling. A large pottery water basin and pitcher sat atop a crate against the north wall, the closest thing this place had ever seen to running water.
A refrigerator was out of the question. Even a small one would drain too much of the precious electrical supply that the windmill generator could produce. That was dedicated to her laptop, the single light bulb, and her one luxury, a small oscillating fan.
“So what goodies have you brought me today?”
“Well, let’s see.” Tall bear dumped the contents of the sack onto the floor.
“Hmmm. Meals ready to eat. Beans. Freeze-dried entrees. The works.”
“Don’t forget the toiletries. You know the elders didn’t have the luxury of those things.”
Janet raised an eyebrow. “Much as I love roughing it, TP is high on my priority list. But where are my manners? Thanks again for hauling all these supplies up here. Have a seat while I get you some water.”
Tall Bear slid onto one of the chairs as Janet grabbed the pitcher, filling a tin cup and setting it on the table in front of her friend. It was odd to think of him that way, but that was exactly what he had become. The tall Navajo cop, with his long raven hair hanging below his shoulders, had proven his reliability time and again. Not only had he guided them to this remote hideaway, but he had been their only means of getting critical supplies from town. While she and Jack were capable of sustaining themselves off the land indefinitely, Tall Bear’s help had given them a base of operation.
Besides that, Jack trusted the man, and Jack’s intuition about such things was never wrong.
“So what’s the news from civilization?” Janet asked, sliding into a chair across from him.
“Internet down?”
“You know what I mean. What’s the local gossip?”
Although she had access to all the news sites, Janet had found the Navajo a font of information. For one thing, he was a cop and a damn good one. More importantly, he was privy to a network of sources that stretched across the country and beyond, a web of communication links between native communities dotting North, Central, and South America. Despite all her years working with the CIA, DIA, and NSA, Janet was stunned by the true reach and capabilities of that network. As tightly secretive as was the cell structure within Al Qaeda and its affiliates, the cellular nature of these native communities put that to shame. And, invariably, within each grouping of native people there was a subgroup in which the old longing for independence ran deep.
Tall Bear leaned back in his chair, rocking it back until it balanced precariously on two legs, his hand interlaced in his long, black hair.
“It’s not good. This nanite goo is the new meth, only the world is addicted to this stuff even before they’ve taken a hit. Shit. Everybody wants it.”
Janet nodded. “From what I see on the net, the UN is pushing pretty damn hard to speed the public release. Luckily the president seems to have had a change of heart on how fast he wants to push it out the door.”
“Only because some of his right-wing base is in rebellion. But he won’t be able to hold back too long. There are whispers about a new black market source for the stuff, distribution through the drug cartels, that sort of thing.”
“It’s gonna get ugly.”
“Already is. Beheading has become the preferred gangland method of execution. They don’t know who’s on the juice, and they just aren’t taking chances.”
“So is the new source real?”
“Hard to say for sure. At first, the stuff was only available from the blood of someone who had undergone the treatment. But it seems like there is just too much available on the market. Of course, a lot of the stuff is probably fake.”
“It’s pretty easy to check whether someone got the real stuff or not. Just stick a knife in them.”
“And that’s the trouble. There are way too many reports of freak healers to think they are all false. For there to be a second source, someone might have reverse engineered the formula.”
“Or there is a leak in the Los Alamos security.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Tall Bear frowned. “But I think something else is going on. I just can’t quite put my finger on it. This has the feel of powerful sponsorship within our own government.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Call it a hunch. The way this is being investigated by the FBI and Treasury feels wrong. The whole thing feels more like a cover-up than a real investigation.”
The rumble of thunder echoed through the canyons outside the hogan. Tall Bear rose from his seat.
“Well I better be getting back to the Jeep. It’s a two-mile hike, and it sounds like I might get wet if I don’t hurry.”
“You could wait out the storm here,” Janet offered.
“Can’t. I go on duty at six o’clock, and there are a couple of other errands I need to run before then.”
Janet followed him outside and hugged him again. “Well thanks for the supplies and the company.”
As Tall Bear stepped back, he glanced down at her stomach. “How’re you feeling?”
Janet patted her stomach and smiled. “Everything seems to be progressing normally.”
“Morning sickness?”
“Not yet.”
For just a moment, it seemed that a shadow passed across Tall Bear’s features. Then he smiled. “Not all women get it. Maybe you’re one of the lucky ones.”
“One can only hope.”
“Have you heard from Jack?”
“Not in over a week. When I need to get information to him, I encrypt it and post it on one of the public Internet sites we both monitor. Jack does the same.”
“Does he know you’re pregnant?”
“Yes.”
“Sorry. You can tell me it’s none of my business.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not shy.”
Tall Bear laughed as he turned away. “That thought never occurred to me.”