“You certainly know your NSA, Matt,” said Desh, standing and pouring himself another cup of coffee. “They've been involved in this from the beginning,” he continued. “In some capacity.” He shifted his eyes to Kira. “Someone had to order satellites to track you, Kira. But that didn’t necessarily mean our Moriarty—or Sam if you will—worked there. Given everyone was convinced you were behind the Ebola threat, the NSA would have been called in regardless.”
“But if he did work there, that would explain a lot,” said Metzger. “The NSA sends daily intelligence reports to numerous agencies—and even to the White House on occasion. If this Sam was operating from within the NSA he could readily spread false intelligence. He could spread misinformation about Kira that would be accepted as fact. And he put together a tight frame of the colonel in record time. I’ve known Jim Connelly forever, and I know that nothing could ever get him to betray his country. Yet the evidence they put together against him almost had me convinced.”
“The more you think about it,” said Desh, “the more sense it makes. The NSA would be the ideal place for Sam to reinvent Hoover’s strategy, using capabilities that Hoover could only dream of. The combination of being able to doctor intelligence reports and eavesdrop on whoever he wanted to at the highest levels of government—and blackmail them—would make him the ultimate puppet master.”
“He’d be high up in the organization,” said Kira. “But not the Director. Not enough anonymity that way.”
Metzger pursed his lips. “It feels right,” he said, his bushy eyebrows almost touching as he wrinkled his forehead in thought. “But how much does this help us? Even if we knew this were true, could we find him?”
“David and I know what he looks like now,” said Kira.
“Yeah, but they don’t just advertise employees of the NSA in an online directory with pictures and addresses,” said Connelly.
“How many employees do they have?” asked Kira.
Griffin smiled. “It’s classified,” he said. “So is their budget. Their headquarters is at Fort Meade, Maryland, just outside D.C. I read online that someone counted eighteen thousand parking spaces there. The Post published an article a few years back estimating the total number at all their facilities around the world at close to forty thousand. Their security is legendary,” he added grimly.
“How do you happen to know so much about them, Matt?” asked Connelly curiously.
“Are you kidding,” replied Griffin, grinning. “The NSA is to conspiracy theorists and hackers what Area 51 is to UFO freaks. Massive, powerful, shadowy. Not to mention that they have a supercomputer center with the largest accumulation of computer power ever housed on Earth.”
Desh smiled mischievously. “Ever hack into it?”
“Absolutely not!” said Griffin, looking shocked. “It’s the third rail of the hacking world. First, they have the best security on the planet. Impenetrable as far as I know. Second, if you did make it in, they would find out, and they’d come after you—with a vengeance.”
Desh looked amused. “If it makes you feel any better, they’re already coming after you with a vengeance,” he pointed out. “Surely simple employee records and photographs don’t warrant the NSA’s maximum protection.”
“Maybe not,” allowed Griffin. “But even their minimum protection is pretty unbeatable.”
“You’re the only chance we have,” said Kira gently. “Can you do it?”
Griffin sighed. “Maybe, given three or four days, I could get employee records. Maybe. But we don’t have time for that.” He shook his head helplessly. “Kira is as good a hacker as I am, so together we might be able to do it faster.” He frowned. “But still not fast enough to stop this Sam character from unleashing his engineered virus.”
Kira shook her head. “I’m only as good as you when my intelligence has been enhanced. Otherwise, you’re orders of magnitude more accomplished than I am.”
“What about enhancing Matt, then?” suggested the colonel. “If this mental transformation is all it’s cracked up to be, with his vast base of knowledge, he should be able to beat even the NSA.” Connelly pulled a pain-relief capsule from his pocket, placed it on his tongue, and washed it down with some now lukewarm coffee.
Desh sighed. “I have no doubt that he could.” He eyed Kira warily. “But I don’t know if we want to take that chance right now.”
“You’re that worried about the side effects of this pill?” said Connelly.
“I’ve compared notes with Kira,” replied Desh, “and the sociopathy effect hit me harder and faster than it hit her.”
Metzger stroked his chin once again. He turned to Kira. “Do you think it hit David harder because there was testosterone added to the mix?” he asked.
Kira considered. “An interesting hypothesis,” she said. “But I don’t know.”
“It’s possible Matt won’t display any antisocial tendencies the first time,” said Desh. “Kira tells me her therapy didn’t affect her that way to any major degree until she had been transformed a number of times.” He frowned. “But we can’t rule out the possibility the effect will hit him even harder than it did me. That would be dangerous for everyone.”