By noon, he’d identified the Access Control cluster. He took a break for lunch and then began a SQL injection attack to compromise the database so that he could add records. This step took a full five hours. Access granted, he spent time getting a feel for the server’s database architecture. He looked at several preexisting employee records and credentials before creating his own. Entering his bogus information, he inserted the employee photograph that Jenn had taken, along with his scanned fingerprints.
Satisfied with his work, Gibson deleted the virtual machine as if it had never existed. Tomorrow, posing as an employee of Tyner Aviation, he would pay a visit to the Dulles Pass & ID Office, located in the main terminal across from baggage claim seven. There he could pick up a replacement green badge with escort authority and nonmovement area endorsements. That would give him the run of the place. He didn’t know what good that would do him—Jenn had been less than forthcoming with details. He’d leave that up to her.
Gibson checked a nearby clock—still plenty of time to catch the seven o’clock to Seattle. He packed up and rolled his suitcase back to the parking garage. If anyone questioned him later why he’d been at the airport but never boarded a flight, he’d say he’d been on the way to confront his ex-wife in Seattle but thought better of it. Not far from the truth.
Jenn expected him to return directly to Reston, but he needed to make a couple of stops on the way. She wouldn’t be happy, but the way he looked at it, he’d be doing her a favor. She needed new things to be grumpy about to take her mind off all the things that were already irritating her—an area in which Gibson excelled. He started the SUV, telling himself he was being unfair. While they still had a few trust issues to work out, it felt good to be around someone who knew him.
Still, she was going to be mightily pissed.
Gibson saw the top of the power plant above the trees. Duke leaned forward from the backseat like he’d been planning an ambush.
“These aren’t your people,” Duke said. “Jenn. George. They are not your responsibility. I care about my family. Your family. The people that you have failed again and again. The way you failed me.”
“I’m doing the best I can,” Gibson whispered.
“This is your best? That woman had me murdered, and what do you do? You cut deals. Another confessed to burning down my granddaughter’s house, and what do you do? You cut deals. Christ, boy. What does someone have to do to actually deserve your retribution?”
“I locked Ogden away like you wanted.”
“And now, at the first setback, you’re going to let him go again.”
“It’s not solving anything. I can’t live like this.”
“If that’s true, then floor this thing. Drive us into the side of the power plant before you fail someone else. Die with that much dignity. You’d be doing us all a favor.”
“Shut up,” Gibson said as defiantly as he could, but his eyes went where Duke pointed. The SUV leapt forward, his knuckles white and taut on the steering wheel. The thought of letting go of all his pain was a tempting one. The chance to rest. To be free. It had seduced him before when he’d believed that the door would never open. He remembered the faded bloodstain on the floor of his cell and eased his foot off the accelerator.
“This isn’t over,” Duke warned.
Gibson didn’t doubt him for a second. He drove around back and parked, waiting for his heart to slow. Everything looked status quo. He took the shopping bag from the passenger seat and went into the plant. At the bottom of the stairs, he took off his boots and padded down the service corridor in his socks. At the cell, he retrieved his gun from its hiding place and loaded a full clip. Just in case.
Through the peephole, he saw that Ogden lay motionless on his cot, back to the room. His efforts at housekeeping had deteriorated since Gibson’s last visit. Food packaging littered the floor. Gibson sorted through his key ring.
“Think about what you’re doing,” Duke said. “Ogden is just guessing. You open that door, you’re going to have to kill him.”
“I don’t have to do anything you say.”
Gibson unlocked the cell and took a short wooden stool inside. Ogden didn’t move. Gibson shut the door and sat with his back against the door. He rested the gun on his thigh and waited. Ogden rolled over, and the two men regarded each other.
“It’s harder than you think it’s going to be, isn’t it?” Gibson said.
“Are you here to gloat?”
“I thought I would be, but no.”
“Then what was the point?” Ogden asked.
“I needed you to know.”
“Know what?” Ogden asked, lifting his head from the cot.
“That it mattered.”
“So now what?”
“I haven’t gotten that far. But I thought we should talk.”
“Will you tell me one thing? How long have I been in here?”
Gibson nodded at the familiarity of the question. “I know, right? It’s weird how time gets away from you.”
“How long?”
“Three months,” Gibson said with a straight face.
“Bullshit,” Ogden said, but Gibson could hear the doubt in the man’s voice.
“A week? A year? A lifetime.”
“You’re one crazy son of a bitch.”
“Yeah, I am. Thank you for that.”
Ogden swung himself into a sitting position. “What I did was justified.”
“Doesn’t make it right,” Gibson said.
“The needs of the many exceed the needs of the few.”
“Is that how you CIA boys justify the rendition of an American citizen on US soil? Was Poisonfeather really that valuable?”
“Do you know what China is?” Ogden asked. “It’s the Soviet Union on steroids. It’s Russia with a world-class economy and ten times the population. We literally spent the old USSR to death. That won’t happen with China. They are strong, rich, ambitious, and spend close to two hundred billion a year on their military. So yes, Poisonfeather was that valuable. He was the best human intelligence resource that we’ve ever had inside their politburo. Poisonfeather was worth a thousand of you. I wasn’t going to jeopardize my asset for some burnout Marine hacker.”
“I wouldn’t have said anything.”
“Your history suggested otherwise. And if we’re being candid, this little stunt hasn’t done anything to change my mind.”
“What happens if I let you go?”
“Death penalty,” Ogden said without hesitation. “The Patriot Act is unambiguous on that point.”
“And if I run?”
“We hunt you down. Death penalty.”
“Shouldn’t you be telling me what I want to hear?” Gibson said. “How if I let you go that you’ll forget who it was who took you?”
“I would if I thought you were dumb enough to fall for it.”
“I was dumb enough to take you.”
“You got me there,” Ogden agreed. “You ever kill anyone?”
Gibson shook his head. “No. And don’t especially want to start now, but I’m not fond of needles.”
“There might be one other move we could try.”
“What’s that?”
“How long have I been here? Really.”
“Two weeks,” Gibson said.
“It seems so much longer than that.”
“You should try it for eighteen months.”
Ogden stared at him without a response.
“You were saying.”
Ogden lifted his chin. “Langley won’t be anxious to admit that one of their people got snatched from under their nose. It’s a bad precedent. Have I been on the news yet?”
Gibson shook his head.
“Good,” Ogden said. “That’s good. Chances are they’ll want to keep it that way. Especially if they get me back in one piece.”
“So what do I do?”