Walker said, “Monica . . .”
“That’s right,” David said.
“I—how do you know . . .”
“You told your mother.”
“I did?” Walker thought back. He’d been twenty; Monica a year older. The commandant’s daughter, a psychology major at Cornell. They’d met at the Academy gym at the start of the July Fourth weekend, then caught up later that day and spent the three days holed up in a hotel in Boulder, Colorado. Close to the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs but far enough away from the prying eyes of fellow cadets and staff. And her father. “Mom told you?”
“Yes.” Walker thought about his mother’s condition back then. She was lucid, but that was around when it had started, when he’d moved out of home. He’d called her every other week and each time he’d noticed it a little more. Dementia.
He looked at his father. “How did they pick Jasper for this?”
“I don’t know.”
“Because of you, and me?”
“No. It can’t be that. I swear I have no idea. It’s because of Jasper’s skills set. Nothing more.”
“This is linked back to you, it has to be.”
“There’s no way of knowing that.”
“Whoever is running this Zodiac cell, whoever took this guy hostage, they know of the connection.”
“When I created Zodiac you were in the Air Force, in Iraq, your first overseas tour. I looked at his record—Jasper had nothing to do with cyber stuff then. There’s no way this goes back to me, to you.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“I don’t like coincidences.”
“Me either. This could be connected to us. Of course it could. Because you started Zodiac, and they’re working backward, not forward, and they have the benefit of hindsight.” Walker looked at his father. Watchful. “Whoever they are.”
“Well, this is happening, so you have to deal with it for what it is. Look into Jasper. Go find Monica, talk to her, see what she knows and what she thinks. Find a way in.” David’s watch beeped. “That’s it. Time to go.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’ve got my work, you’ve got yours.”
Walker held his father’s eye. “You really think Monica can help?”
“It’s a lead. Pull at the thread and see where it goes.”
David Walker handed over an iPad from one of the guys standing sentry.
“Her father’s address is on there. She’s with him. The video of Jasper too. Look at it and leave the tablet behind—it’s not secure.”
Walker looked at the screen, the address pinned on a Google map. Riverside Drive, Palermo. “The General lives in San Diego? That’s why we’re meeting here?”
David nodded. “It’s close to here. Watch that movie file. Look up Monica and then leave. Toss the tablet out the window a few blocks from here. Someone will pick it up, and with any luck it might take some NSA resources off you—because once you find her, you’ll be a person of interest to them.” David stared at his son. “Stay off the grid, Jed. Completely dark. You know how the NSA and FBI will be working this. This is happening real time, which means you have to get out there, on the road.”
Walker nodded.
David said, “They’re not looking for you yet but as soon as you make contact with Monica Brokaw, they will be. They’ll voiceprint you and—well, you know the rest.”
Walker did know. They’d have him tagged. Any time he spoke on a phone the government would have him identified and his position located within a minute. Then it would be a matter of how quickly they could get a team to him. Local police could be minutes away. But they’d likely have their own people, mobile forward units deployed to his last known addresses, ready to pounce.
And there was more to it, too. For several years the NSA had mapped the movement of every cell phone in the world by monitoring MAC and IMEI addresses: the unique identifiers emitted by each cellular and wi-fi device. The phone didn’t even have to be turned on. It was harder to do in countries where they had to tap into local cell towers, but in the United States, it was as easy as giving the order to target the phone or tablet.
Walker said, “What will you be doing?”
“What I have to.”
“Can you stop this?”
“No, I really can’t. Neither can your friends in the FBI and UN. This will be up to you.”
“It can’t be that simple.”
David Walker headed for the door, putting a hand on his son’s shoulder as he passed. The hand was heavy. Warm. Walker remembered those hands. They’d held him and picked him up and comforted him more times than he could ever count or fully appreciate. The hands of a stranger became the hands of his father again. “No, it won’t be simple. But you can do it. I’ve always believed in you.”
“You didn’t say where you’re going,” Walker said. “What are you going to do?”
“What I’ve been doing for years,” David said, continuing to the door.
“Running?”
David stopped. His head tilted down toward the floor. Shame? Hard to tell. He turned and faced his son.
“I helped make this,” David said. “I have to do what I can to take it apart.”
“Are you any closer to finding who started Zodiac off?” Walker asked. He knew it could have been taken and started by the rogue CIA guys he’d dealt with a while back, who’d hatched a plot to privatize the CIA via the assassination of the Vice President. But Walker felt that there was more. There had to be. “Someone is steering this. Linking the cells. Giving them their activation signal.”
For his part, David Walker was silent as he stood in the doorway, his security men waiting outside.
Walker opened his hands in a gesture that said, Give me something. Anything. His father shook his head, then tossed Walker a car key on an old NASA key ring, along with a folded piece of paper. “You’ll be needing wheels. And, well, let’s call it a letter of transit, to expedite you at the border. Good luck.”
He was gone without another word. The two heavies too. Walker stood by the window slats and watched them depart. Saw his father and the two guys drive away in a blacked-out Suburban. One car remained outside.
“Oh, you’re kidding me . . .”