10:07 A.M.
SIXTH AVENUE
NEW YORK CITY
Singerman crawled from the middle of the sidewalk to a storefront, beneath an awning. He could no longer feel his legs. He knew he was dying. Behind him, a trail of wet blood shimmered. He dragged himself with his hands and arms. Singerman tried to remember where he was but he was so tired.…
He looked down at his blood-soaked legs and stomach. He wanted to do more, but what more could he do? He let his head start to wobble into sleep. But then he remembered the training. He took the Uzi and aimed it at his foot. He couldn’t feel his feet anymore. He fired at his foot—smashing a bullet into his toes. A piercing ripple of electric pain shot through him. But he was awake now.
Singerman heard his earbud. He tapped it.
“Yeah,” said Singerman.
“Aaron, it’s Igor,” came a Russian voice. “Are you there?”
“No,” said Singerman. “No, Igor, I’m sorry, I’m not.”
“What happened?”
“I got shot.”
“Oh, Christ, I’m sorry,” said Igor.
“Where are you?” said Singerman.
“At the iodine sheet field,” said Igor. “Someone is inside the governors’ room. I’ve got Fedwire up and down. I can see what he’s doing in real time but he can’t be stopped unless someone takes over the keyboard. The security membrane is not penetrable, unless you have the eye scans and thumbs. It’s hard-wired. Is there a back door?”
Singerman coughed blood as he struggled to listen, and to register the voice. It was a Russian voice, he thought as he drifted further into shock. He was now in a cloud and felt himself somehow rising up and starting to float away, in harmony, drifting into whatever oblivion lay next—and then he fired again, spraying bullets into his other foot. This time he barely felt it, though it was enough to cause him to groan.
“Yes, I put it there myself,” said Singerman. “You can turn off the sheet field for approximately two and a half seconds.”
“How?” said Igor.
“There’s a trigger in the reboot in the power source,” said Singerman. “It will only work once. It tells the reboot to pause for two point five seconds.”
Singerman coughed violently as blackness descended, and nothing could prevent the inevitable conclusion of his life that was coming. He was dying this time. He couldn’t even lift the Uzi to shoot at his legs. Maybe he was already dead.…
He suddenly remembered designing the system, under the tutelage of his mentor, Professor Richards, at Yale. It was when he started working for the agency.
“JACK314,” said Singerman.
“What?” said Igor.
“JACK314,” said Singerman, fighting just to speak. “Do you have it?” he said.
“Yes, I wrote it down. What is it?”
“It’s a crypto code to shut down Fedwire,” said Singerman. “It will stop anything the hacker has done. It has to be all caps, Igor.”
“Got it. Where are you?” said Igor. “I’ll send someone, an ambulance.”
“It’s too late,” said Singerman. Then he whispered his last words: “I’m sorry I couldn’t get there, Igor.”