Utah
Lyle finally decided it was late enough to vacate his hotel room.
He’d spent most of the day lounging, and it was getting into the early afternoon. He’d read a few articles about recent advances in the field of robotics, watched some TV, and now he was starving. It had been several hours since he had last eaten.
The sun hadn’t set yet, but the day had cooled off significantly. A quick check of his phone told him that the heat was only in the lower eighties. He looked up some nearby restaurants and settled on a hole in the wall diner a few blocks away.
He hadn’t rented a car, so he would be hoofing it across the city or taking taxis. He decided to walk to the place and ride a taxi back because he doubted he would want to walk after he’d eaten, and he didn’t want to waste too much money getting driven around.
The walk wasn’t too bad and he found the weather to be quite enjoyable now that it was cooler. He nodded pleasantly at a few people along his way and enjoyed the fact that there were very few clouds in the sky. It was nothing like Washington. Maybe he would stay up late tonight and find a place to do some stargazing.
“Welcome,” a hostess said as Lyle entered the restaurant. “How many?”
“Just one,” Lyle said.
“For now? Is the rest of your party on the way or is it just you?”
“Just me,” Lyle said with a sigh. The hostess looked puzzled like she couldn’t understand why he would come to the diner alone.
“All right,” she said. “You can follow me.”
She put a handful of menus back and led Lyle through the restaurant to a table in the corner. It had four chairs, and Lyle picked the one closest to the door.
“Thanks.”
“Your server will be right with you,” she replied, disappearing.
Lyle pulled out his phone and started scrolling, not really searching for anything in particular but wanting something to do to pass the time. He texted Peter a quick message about an article he’d read earlier and then checked his Facebook account.
“Hi,” a teenage kid said, stepping up to Lyle’s table with a notepad in his hand. “I’m Fred, and I’ll be taking care of you. Can I get you started off with something to drink while we wait for the rest of your party to arrive?”
“It’s just me,” Lyle said.
“For now?”
“Nope,” he replied, “and I’ll take a Coke.”
“Sure,” the kid said, flipping his notepad closed and heading back into the kitchen.
Lyle sighed and put his phone away. His stomach was rumbling as he glanced over the menu, trying to decide what he wanted.
Suddenly, a woman sat down in the chair across from him. She was holding a menu up, hiding most of her face. “You should try the bison burger,” she said, not looking at him. “It’s out of this world.”
Lyle looked around. “Excuse me.”
She lowered the menu and smiled at him. “Yes?”
He opened his mouth, trying to think of something to say. “This…uh…is my table.”
“I know,” she agreed, looking back at the menu.
The waiter reappeared with a Coke. “Ah, okay, you’re all here now?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“No,” Lyle said.
“What would you like to drink?”
“I’ll have the same thing he’s having,” she said.
“She’s not with…” Lyle started to say, but the waiter was already walking away, completely ignoring him.
“You didn’t get diet, did you?” she asked.
“What?”
“I hate diet. It gives me headaches. That fake sugar is disgusting.”
“Who are you? Do I know you?”
“Nope,” she admitted, lifting the menu. “How about we split a bison burger? It’s pretty big, and I don’t think I can finish the entire thing.”
“Who are…why…um…what are you doing at my table?”
She stared at him. “Eating.”
“I mean, why this table?”
“Because there are empty chairs.”
“But, I mean, wouldn’t you prefer…” he trailed off.
“If you have something to say, just say it,” she said.
He took a deep breath. “This is my table, and I don’t know you. I would prefer if you went somewhere else.”
“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
She looked back at the menu. Lyle waited for a second, then said, “So, are you going to move?”
“No, but I appreciate that you said it.”
The waiter reappeared. “Did you guys decide what you want?”
“We’re going to split the bison burger,” she ordered, handing him the menu. The waiter took Lyle’s as well. “To go. And there’s an extra twenty in it if you can get it in the next three minutes.”
The waiter looked surprised for a second and then shrugged. “Sure.”
He disappeared back into the kitchen.
“Why are you doing this?” Lyle asked.
“Because I’m hungry,” she replied, “and I don’t know when we’re going to be able to eat next.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Can I see your phone?”
“No, you can’t see my phone,” he said.
She gave him a look that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. A shiver ran up his spine.
“Why do you need my phone?” he asked.
“Because they will use it to trace you,” she said.
“Who?”
“The FBI when they realize you’re a traitor. JanCorp when they realize you’re still alive. Take your pick.”
“What?”
“Just give me your damn phone.”
Lyle thought to object, but it was hard to figure out what was going on. “This is a joke, isn’t it?” he asked. Nevertheless, he handed his phone over.
She flipped it over, took off the back plate, and removed the battery. Then she put both pieces into her pocket.
“Might need it later,” she said.
“Did Peter put you up to this?”
She took a sip of Coke, not looking at him. “Peter’s dead.”
Lyle hesitated. “What?”
“They killed him about an hour ago in his home. Made it look like you did it.”
“No, no, that’s impossible. I just talked to him.”
“I need to know why,” she said. “Why do they want you dead?”
The waiter reappeared with a bag. He handed it to the woman. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” She handed him two twenties. “If anyone asks, we were never here.”
“All right,” the waiter said. He looked confused but just disappeared into the kitchen.
The woman stood up. “We’re out of time, but as soon as this is over, you need to tell me everything. Got it?”
“What are you talking about?”
She looked at the front of the restaurant. “Start walking back to your hotel. Act like nothing is wrong. Don’t look around when they start following you.”
Lyle shook his head, unable to think straight or figure out what was happening. “What is going on?”
She leaned in close. “Hey,” she said, grabbing his chin. “There are too many civilians in here. Children. They wanted to grab you in here, but I convinced them to get you outside first. If you don’t start walking in the next ten seconds, then a lot of people are going to die. You don’t want that, do you?”
Lyle just stared at her, feeling his heart beating furiously in his chest. Without saying anything, he stood from his chair and started walking for the exit.
“Take this,” she said, handing him the bag of food. “And don’t drop it. Like I said, it might be a while before we get to eat again.”
2
Lyle walked down the street, fighting the urge to look around. His legs felt like rubber and he was lightheaded, like he might pass out at any moment.
Just a prank, he told himself. Some stupid prank that Peter is playing on me.
He just wished he could believe it.
The first block went smoothly as he walked down the sidewalk. It was getting dark out and with it came a chill in the air. He wasn’t hungry anymore; his stomach was twisted in knots.
The street was almost empty, with only a few people walking in either direction. He crossed to the second block and saw a black unmarked van pull up to the curb in front of him. It was about fifty feet away, idling.
He let out a gasp of air, trying not to fall over. His body was tense and he felt wobbly, but he kept putting one foot in front of the other.
He heard footsteps behind him, closing the distance as he got closer to the van. “Oh God,” he muttered. “Oh God, oh God, oh God…”
The footsteps behind him sped up just as the door to the van swung open. Suddenly, he felt something slide over his head and the world went dark. A bag. He was pushed forward, and he tripped. Someone caught him, and he felt himself dragged up into the van.
He was blubbering and thrashing, but strong arms held him down. He heard the van door slide closed and they started moving. Lyle could feel the van underneath him jostling as they traveled.
He kept muttering to himself, biting back the urge to cry and trying not to panic. “We’ve got the package,” he heard someone say.
“An easy grab,” another voice said. This one he recognized as the woman from the diner. The one who had sat and spoken with him.
“What’s this?”
“Looks like his leftovers,” another voice said.
The first man laughed. “He won’t be needing those.”
They drove for a while, jostling and laughing and pinning Lyle to the ground. It was hard to breathe, and he felt lightheaded. His entire body was shaking.
“Why are you doing this?” Lyle asked. His voice was muffled.
“Shut up,” one said, hitting him on the side of the head.
“This far enough?”
“Yeah, pull up here out of sight. We’ll drop him in the trees.”
The van pulled to a stop but kept idling.
“Grab the shovels,” the first person said.
There was the sound of rustling and then the van door slid open. Lyle was dragged out, panting into his bag.
“Please, you don’t want to do this!”
They ignored him. The person dragging him threw him roughly forward to the ground.
“Start digging the hole. We’ll put him in first.”
“Please…” Lyle muttered, trying to crawl away. Someone stepped on his leg.
“Going somewhere?”
A few laughed. Suddenly, there was the soft pssh sound of expelled air.
“Hey, what—!”
Another pssh, then another. Someone started shouting, and Lyle heard scrambling around him. A body thudded to the ground a few feet from him and he jerked away from it.
There was a scuffle with a lot of thuds as people punched and hit each other, then another pssh and then silence. Lyle could hear his own breathing, sucking the cloth bag into his mouth then blowing it out, always short of breath. It was quiet outside his bag, and he felt his body trembling in fear.
The bag was yanked off his head. He drew in air, gasping. Four bodies lay on the ground around him, scattered and in various positions. All of them were unconscious.
The woman from the diner stood overtop him, holding what looked like a long-barreled pistol. She had a bloody lip and looked slightly disoriented.
“Get up,” she said, offering him a hand.
He tentatively accepted it, and she jerked him to his feet. He dusted himself off and gulped.
“What…what happened…?”
“I shot them,” she said.
He stared blankly at her. “Are they…?”
“Tranquilizers,” she added, shaking her head. “They’ll wake up in a few hours with raging headaches, but otherwise, they’ll be fine. Except him—” she kicked the boot of the nearest guy—“I had to break his arm.”
“You…you helped them take me.”
“Of course I did,” she said. “That’s what they hired me for. And I needed the van and a place to stash them while we figure out what to do next, so I let them bring us out here.”
“They were going to kill me.”
“Yep.” She walked over to the van and reached inside. She pulled out the bag of food from the diner. “You dropped this, but I grabbed it.”
“Oh.”
She opened the bag and pulled out the sandwich. She ripped it in half and offered him a piece. “Eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Yes, you are. Eat and you’ll feel better.”
Just thinking about the food made Lyle nauseous. “I don’t think I can right now.”
“Either eat this damn sandwich or I’ll shoot you.”
Lyle took the offered half. He bit into it, but he couldn’t taste anything. He chewed mechanically and swallowed.
“Why were they going to kill me?”
“You tell me.”
“I have no idea,” Lyle said. “I’m nobody.”
“Not to them,” she said, taking a bite of the sandwich and grabbing some fries. “You were worth a five-person hit squad.”
Lyle rubbed his chin and then staggered over to a tree and leaned against it. “I…have to sit down.”
“It’s okay. Deep breaths. The adrenaline will wear off and the weakness will pass. What do you know that is worth getting you killed?”
“Nothing,” he said.
“It already got Peter killed.”
Lyle felt a tightness in his chest. “God…”
“We don’t have all day.”
Lyle looked up at her. He dropped the sandwich on the ground and felt like he was about to cry. “It was all a mistake,” he said.
“What was?”
“When we found it.”
“Found what? Start at the beginning.”
Lyle took a deep breath. “We were doing performance testing and I wanted to shave a few seconds off of one of our worst performing services. It was an application we weren’t supposed to touch and the code was obfuscated, but I started playing with it to find out where I could save some time.”
“Obfuscated?”
“Means intentionally confusing. Like they wanted to make it transparent.”
“Transparent?” she asked. “Like see-through?”
“What? No. The coding meaning of it. Like, completely predictable but hidden from the user.”
“Oh,” she said. “So you were messing with stuff you shouldn’t have been?”
“No one told us not to mess with it,” Lyle said, “they just figured if they made it confusing enough we wouldn’t bother. Anyway, it wasn’t an issue until we found the backdoor.”
“The what?”
“Whoever originally built the software added some clever weaknesses. External access that is almost impossible to use unless you know exactly what you’re looking for. But, with it, you can gain complete control of the system.”
“Why would they do that?”
“To let someone in who isn’t allowed to be there,” Lyle said.
“Like who?”
Lyle shrugged. “China. Russia. Anyone who knows about the weakness can exploit it.”
The woman was silent for a second. “How many devices would this affect?”
“Thousands of drones all around the world. Many are military but some aren’t.”
“So with this exploit, someone could take control of a drone and fly it wherever they wanted to?”
“You’re missing the point,” Lyle said. “With this software, someone could take control of a drone and bomb a city.”
3
The woman was silent for a long minute. “Damn.”
“Yeah,” he said.
“And now they know that you know?”
“There must have been some protection on it. When I checked out the files in VC it probably pinged whoever created the exploit.”
“VC?”
“Version control,” Lyle answered.
“Can you start talking like a normal person?”
He lifted his hands helplessly.
“Sorry about your friend,” Kate said.
Lyle felt like crying again. The idea that he would never see Peter again was impossible to comprehend and unfathomably sad at the same time. “Peter was a good guy. And I got him killed.”
“Don’t think like that,” she said. “Everyone makes their own choices.”
“I told him to download the software.”
“You didn’t know it was an international security risk.”
He sighed. “What now? Do I report this to the government?”
“Won’t do any good,” Kate said. “Get up, we need to go.”
“What do you mean it won’t do any good?” he asked, standing up.
“The people who killed Peter framed you for it, and they planted evidence both in the company and at Peter’s house that you are a spy stealing the software. As far as the FBI knows, you’ve been planning to sell it for a while to Iran. Peter was on to you, so you killed him to keep him quiet.”
“What? That’s ridiculous.”
“Not to the FBI,” she said. “There’s going to be a manhunt for you in the next few hours, so we need to get you out of the state.”
“And go where?”
“East,” she said. “I need to get you out of sight and get us to a position where we can figure out who really took the software and what they are planning to do with it. Then we can stop them.”
“Why?” he asked. “Why are you helping me?”
She opened the door to the van, finishing the last bite of her sandwich. “I have my reasons,” Kate said.
“How do you know so much about what’s going on?”
She glanced over at him. “The people that are doing this…I used to work for them.”
