Chapter 16


The hunt began above the clouds. Chen had caught a five-hour 797 to Vladivostok, crossing Korea at subsonic speed but accelerating over China. He and Sergey Rubech negotiated by text. After listing the local talent, Sergey was authorized to hire twenty people. Some had been mercenaries in Africa, others were State militia working as licensed bodyguards.
  Chen was at the center of a rising storm, the clouds moving for him. He continued north by vertol over Lake Chanka and the Kerov Range. At 14:30 he landed in the first staging area, a deserted field fifty kilometers west of Birobidzhan. Around him were hectares of dry shrubland, and the dark forest wall. Small all terrain vehicles bounced through hidden gullies and culverts, grunts rising and falling as the mercenaries practiced their off-road drills. With centuries of combined experience, some of them had helped steal the Zondyne mainframe years ago.
  The reality was always messy. In public, Chen usually wore a mask or data helmet, which was legal under the Burka Laws. Competent-looking specialists working in the back of a truck saluted him. Sharing the risk, he was also their hostage. He passed out digital brochures for another religion.
  The commander's eyes were as steady as the horizon. "Your mystery individual will kill us all," he began in fluent Cantonese.
  "I want to help create God's kingdom," Chen replied. "Obviously, we can't ask you to take the same risks, but we are ready to compensate you handsomely for your courage."
  "You realize you can't control the operation once it begins?"
  "I know the meaning of commitment, and trust your reputation. I won't interfere in any way. My group can provide you with new identities if necessary. Why are we all gathered in one place?"
  The commander handed Chen an armor jacket and a beret. "You just became a legal deputy, courtesy of District Nine. After the Depot attack, we formed a volunteer militia to report saboteurs."
  Chen had trained his emotions, but it was hard to trust people who were unsympathetic to his cause. The Net made big operations too easy. Control software would hire people, tell them whatever they needed to know, move them around and sacrifice them as needed. Too many scripts were available. He hoped he'd chosen the right one.
  "If we're detained, I may have to take a suicide pill," he said. "In that case I would appreciate a diversion."
  The commander approved. To serve a cause, it helped to be disconnected. "Let's begin," he shouted.
  The trailers were loaded, the ATV's stowed on flatbeds. The mercenaries jumped into the fully fueled and equipped trucks. Covered with advertising and false panels, no two looked alike. The turbines started in perfect harmony.
  Feeling out of shape, Chen climbed in the side of his van, and heard the door slide shut behind him. It was quiet inside, with comfortable seats.
  The convoy kicked up dust, spreading out along the pale road. Chen and the commander had an encrypted conversation while classical music played. The commander agreed to relax his usual precautions.
  "Will Sergey's plan work?" Chen asked. A branch slammed the van.
  "We'll be lucky to get within ten kilometers. We're already using the cell towers as scanners. That's legal if we don't eavesdrop." A specialist in truck four monitored all frequencies, using software that rewrote itself.
  "Put me on the main channel please."
  "Everyone hears you."
  Chen cleared his throat, hesitating an instant as he visualized a prayer symbol. This team was too small for secrecy. "Today we will make history. You will be rewarded in this lifetime and the next. Item one: I need to question the person who worked with UN Inspector Parkland last night." His voice trembled on the bumpy road. "His name is Roger Xyrghyz, a data broker and admitted counterfeiter. Here's our best composite photo. He thinks he already owns the Method. I plan to use his greed against him." The mercenaries thought Chen was chasing an illusion. If he succeeded, they would never know the truth.
  "One of his friends saw our reward offer, and betrayed him. We will isolate Roger, and persuade him to work for mankind instead of himself."
  The commander interrupted. "Has this friend ever even met Roger?"
  "No, he reveals his location only to God and to his apprentices. I suggest we use Sergey's cellnet reset plan to locate him." He said it fast. Gravel spattered in the wheel wells. A bump made his head nod.
  "We can do that once, for one million extra."
  "Agreed."

  Twenty minutes later Roger Xyrghyz answered his obsolete but unhackable radio phone.
  "Roger? This is Mikral. Congratulations for inventing an intelligent NetXchange. Its called DeePex? I would like to try it."
  "You can have a 5% user discount when my system goes live." Roger didn't plan to sleep this week. If he'd known Mikral had betrayed him, he wouldn't have cared.
  Chen's translation program stumbled through its recitation. He didn't trust it anyway.
  "Where are you?" Mikral asked.
  "I don't even know." Actually, an old dacha near the hamlet of Poraz.
  "How will you celebrate?"
  "By getting rich."
  "But ideas are free."
  "Those in my head aren't," Roger countered. "My franchise concept will transform the world."
  "Money is no longer a universal solvent."
  "I only care about real wealth. I want a seat on the Net Council.
  "You want to work for the Czar?" Mikral asked.
  "Yes, let's say that."
  A voluntary standards group, the Net Council was the last remaining dictatorship. Software controlled every aspect of daily life, serving its owners by changing them, organizing schedules, memories, even dreams. Large programs were highly unstable, and needed to be simplified.
  The Council's standards were compromises for a crazy world. Able to influence how nations thought about themselves, the Councilors were more important than heads of state. Roger wanted to become the next Net Czar, and reorganize reality on his terms.
  In the back of the van, Chen watched the technician play her controls. Roger's phone had a weak signal, but a sensitive relay tower four kilometers away easily picked it up. To radio waves, solid matter was imaginary.
  In the cool van, the specialist activated her burst transmitter. The roof antennas looked like crumpled paper. They briefly jammed every relay within a hundred kilometers. Roger and Mikral were cut off for one millisecond, talking into dead air.
  The specialist broadcast Mikral's re-acquisition signal at full power. Roger's phone thought Mikral was so close they could connect directly. It was smart enough to shut down had they passed each other in the street.
  All other users in the area were disconnected, but Roger's phone boosted its power output and sent a homing signal. If only he'd used a Net relay like normal people. He was too independent for his own good.
  The shifting frequencies were hard to triangulate. The relay tower cut the connection an instant after the mercenaries had estimated Roger's position.
  It had lasted no longer than an eyeblink. "I wonder if he'll live," Chen said to himself.