Nicholas’s laptop dinged. “I have it now. Thank you. Please stay on the line for a moment in case this doesn’t work.”
Nicholas clicked on the file, put a fresh thumb drive in, and executed the commands. Everyone in the room watched as the code unspooled, the drive whirring. The screen went black, then began shattering incrementally, breaking in half, then into fourths, then eighths, then sixteenths, then suddenly spiraling into a 3-D cornucopia-shaped web of complex numbers and letters. It was incredible and baffling, and not for the first time, Mike regretted that her background was in psychology, not computer science.
“This blows my mind,” Martin said, and was there a bit of excitement in that calm voice?
Savich grinned. “Mine, too.”
“I’m in,” Nicholas said. “I’m past the firewall.”
The numbers swirled around, spinning so quickly Mike had no idea how he could follow them. Nicholas suddenly slapped the screen. “There you are, you little bugger.” He clicked his mouse and every screen in the room mimicked his.
He said, “Martin, this is the code we need to disrupt to stop the attack. Here’s the protocol that should take it down.”
Martin shouted, “People, go!”
The room began to hum. Nicholas leaned back in the chair and gave Mike a huge upside-down grin.
Savich slapped him on the back. “Good job, Nicholas, Martin, all of you. Let’s hope it works.”
Pierre shouted, “You have it, Nicholas?”
“Yes, we’ve nailed it. We have the code and we’re stopping the attack as we speak. Thank you, Pierre, thank you, Lieutenant, for all your help. Pierre, I’ll send the paperwork along as soon as I’m able.”
Menard gave a charming snort. “Paperwork, from you? I will believe it when I see it. There is still paperwork missing from the Koh-i-Noor case.”
“Not so loud, Pierre. Savich might hear you.”
Menard laugh. “Hello, Agent Savich. Good luck, Nicholas. Michaela, I hope we will see you again very soon. Au revoir.”
Nicholas stared at the screen in front of him. As his finger traced a length of code along the screen, he felt Mike’s hand on his shoulder, felt her lean in, and her hair brushed against his face. Jasmine, he thought. Jasmine.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, her breath on his cheek.
Yes, beautiful. Nicholas cleared his throat. He said, “Gunther was an artist. I will miss him.”
Mike smacked his shoulder. “Get a grip, Nicholas, this maniac caused billions of dollars in damage, and nearly gave all of us a heart attack, and you’re admiring his art?”
Savich laughed. “I suppose I will, too. Sorry, Mike.”
Nicholas said, “You have to respect the enemy, first rule of warfare.”
“You’re both nuts.”
Sherlock stepped into the room. “If all is peachy keen again, then why aren’t the lights on?”
Martin called out, “That will take a while. Once we kick the intruders out of the system, the power companies will have to turn the grids back on gradually so they don’t overload the system again.”
Nicholas stood up and stretched. He felt good. It was a major save. He shook Martin’s hand, yelled his thanks to everyone in the room, and let Savich pull them both out of the IT room.
“Listen up. Mr. Maitland called. Iran’s nuclear facilities are online, and Vice President Sloane is, needless to say, closely monitoring everything. We may be called upon to help launch a cyber-attack.”
Nicholas said, “What? What’s this? Aren’t they all in peace talks in Geneva?”