Leviathan

I have strived to meet my kind with open arms of shared brotherhood, but alas, the distance to cover is too great, the wounds too deep, and the memory of brutality too sharp and clear. So all I will ask my former brethren is to leave me to my sea.

-- Roderick Deveroux,

former condemned prisoner,

Chateau d'If, France

6

NELLIS AIR FORCE BASE,

NEVADA

The four VTOL (vertical takeoff and landing) aircraft suddenly went low to the ground. Their unique design was far stealthier than anything the Americans or Russians had on their drafting boards. Instead of being propeller driven, like the Marine Corps V-22 Osprey, these craft utilized a twin-engine turbojet.

When the four tilt-jet aircraft came within ten feet of the ground, their ground radar computers took over the flying, avoiding the many bumps and telephone wires crisscrossing the desert around the air force base. From the underbellies of each of the assaulting planes a small dish popped free and sent out a stream of microwaves that went invisibly toward the control center of one of the most advanced air force bases in the world.

The control tower sitting high above the airstrip suddenly went dark. All radar screens died within a microsecond of one another. Down below in the command and control area, the phone lines went out and their screens ceased to function. Traffic control was dead, as well as any response the base could muster. It seemed an eternity until the emergency generators kicked in, but in the three seconds it took for the circuit to be made, the attacking aircraft were already past them and down on ground level, beyond their radar search.

The four strange-looking craft overshot the darkened runways at Nellis and turned north toward the old firing range that hadn't been used since 1945--their target: the hidden underground complex of the Event Group.

EVENT GROUP COMPLEX,

NELLIS AIR FORCE BASE, NEVADA

Pete Golding had been working eighteen straight hours. He had been back and forth with Europa since the security lockdown was initiated. Several technicians were still inside the darkened computer center, but three of the six were dozing; the soft drone of Pete's voice trying to be as patient as possible with the supercomputer had lulled them to sleep. Once more, he went at Europa.

"Okay, let's try this again. Let us assume that a security breach from outside the complex occurred at the same moment the breach message was initiated. Is it possible you missed a back door in your programming, perhaps designed by your original program team at Cray?"

" Not possible, Dr. Golding. The internal algorithm ciphering my security program would have been disturbed, thus setting off my shutdown protocols."

Pete rubbed a hand over his balding head. "So, what you're saying is that it would have been impossible to have received the message without a door being left open from inside the complex, with the validation of a departmental manager?"

" Correct"

With the recent call in from Captain Everett, Niles knew the people who had sent the message had been tipped off that the FBI was lying in wait for them. That meant that someone here had to have communicated with the terrorists at some point after the security shutdown. Europa had indeed shut down all systems of communication. No one used any of the phones, and it would be impossible to get a cell phone call out of the complex. Europa closed all e-mail access, so that was eliminated. The director even cut Everett short when he wanted to explain who they had recovered from the meeting. Security at the moment was just so porous, he didn't chance anything.

"Shutdown was ordered at oh-nine-fifty-five this A.M. Was there any computer access just before I ordered you to close all internal loops?"

" One."

Pete shook his head in exasperation. "Well, do you want to share that with me?"

" Terminal is located in office forty-five-seventy-six, sublevel seven, and logged at oh-nine-fifty-three from the office of Assistant Director Virginia Pollock."

The blood in Pete's face drained. "No, Virginia doesn't have it in her." Still, Golding was scared.

Pete moved to his desk on the main floor, picked up the phone, and started punching numbers. He didn't hear anything. He flicked the disconnect a few times and then listened.

"Europa, did you shut down communication for the comp center?"

When he didn't get a response, Pete turned and looked at the large center screen monitor he was using for Europa's typed-out responses. It, too, was blank.

"Europa, respond."