16 | VIENNA
The excitement of Sam’s first days quickly turned to boredom. It wasn’t every day, it seemed, that cyberterrorists tried to infiltrate nuclear power plants—if, in fact, that was what they had been doing.
Rather, the average day at the office was one of patrols. Skirting around the battlements of the electronic castles, keeping an eye out for approaching enemies.
As it was for those soldiers in the olden days, Sam thought, the average day was basically very boring. He imagined them trudging back and forth on the walls of the castle, trying to stay alert and vigilant, while hours turned into days, and days turned into weeks. Wearing out boot leather on a well-trodden path, hoping for some excitement to break the monotony and hoping at the same time that the attack would never come.
Life in the luxurious suite at the Crowne Plaza, if also a little boring, could not have been easier. Every meal was provided, with twenty-four-hour room service if he wanted it.
His mother e-mailed nearly every day, still convinced that he was imprisoned in some horrible concrete cell, being beaten up by the other inmates.
Sam replied to each e-mail, sitting in the plush leather chair at the expensive writing desk by the picture window that gave a spectacular view out over the city, and said nothing to dispel her concerns.
Now and then, just for fun, he went flying.
With some of the new real-time world-mapping Web sites, you could position yourself above any major city and move around, in any direction. Up and down, forward and backward, left and right.
Do that with a neuro-headset on and the only way to describe the sensation was like flying, soaring above buildings, swooping through parks, making like a bird without ever leaving your chair.
By October, the threat level had been lowered, and the need to be transported across the street in the anonymous gray vans was removed. The team was still holed up in the hotel, but the powers that watched over the CDD team members were at last relaxed enough to let them cross the street by themselves.
On November 3, as Sam waited for the elevator, he realized that he was halfway through his probation. Had he done enough? He had felt confident that first week, but since then, the endless patrolling had given him few opportunities to prove his value. How could they judge his performance based on routine patrols?
Still, he reasoned, he hadn’t done anything to warrant them throwing him out. He hadn’t done anything wrong, or illegal, or stupid.
The elevator doors opened, and Vienna was inside. Sam nodded hello to her without speaking and stepped in. Speaking to Vienna was a waste of time, he had come to realize.
The doors opened on the ground floor, and she stepped forward first, striding toward the hotel entrance without a glance at him. Kiwi, her wingman, was waiting by the entrance, and they left the hotel together, discussing the merits of neuro-headsets versus keyboards and mice. Vienna apparently was opposed to the new technology, preferring the hands-on feel of the old-fashioned method.
Sam stared after them for a moment without moving; then, just as the elevator doors began to shut in front of him, he put a hand out to stop them and raced after the pair.
He caught up with them a few yards along the street.
“Hey, Vienna,” he said.
She ignored him.
The street was lined with trees, and the fall leaves made a soft carpet underfoot. A VW Beetle was parked on the side road ahead of them and had almost disappeared under the leaves. Sunlight glared through the nearly bare branches of the trees. There was a sudden wind gust, and for a moment they were immersed in an orange and yellow fluttering cloud.
Sam walked alongside her and sniffed at his armpits. “What is it? Did I forget to shower today?” He grinned. “Do I have a big toe growing out of the middle of my forehead?”
Kiwi grinned and nodded, putting his thumb to his forehead to illustrate.
“You’re an egg. I don’t talk to eggs,” Vienna said. “Only one in four last the three months. Everyone else might think you’re the next big thing, but I think you just got lucky.”
Kiwi looked at Sam and shrugged sympathetically, earning a narrowed glance from Vienna for his troubles.
They crossed the road and headed down the ramp to the underground parking area and secure entrance to the CDD building.
“I’m just trying—” Sam began, but Vienna cut him off.
“Right now, you’re all that Dodge has to watch his back. If you crash and burn, he’s going to get taken down, and if that happens, and the bad guys get past the barricades, then we’re all in a deep pile of crap. You’d better stay lucky.”
Vienna walked up to the security door and swiped her keycard through the lock.
The outer door opened, and they entered the holding area. Vienna waited for the first door to shut before swiping her card at the inner security door.
The doors were linked. The inner one would not open while the outer door was still open, creating a kind of air lock to prevent unauthorized access to the building.
The inner door slid silently open, and Vienna headed toward the elevators. Kiwi stopped at a coffee machine and pressed buttons for a hot chocolate.
“So that’s why she doesn’t like me,” Sam said, stopping with him.
The machine whirred and ground its teeth. A paper cup with a pullout handle dropped down and began to fill.
Kiwi shook his head. “That’s not it. Not really. When you got past the defenses at Telecomerica, we were watching you the whole time. You were never supposed to get as far as you did. You beat us, big-time.”
“So?” Sam asked.
“Who d’you think was on your case?”