Walker was in a bed in Stanford University Hospital. A nurse checked him over, helped him sit up and left the room. McCorkell and Somerville were standing by the foot of the bed.
“The ICANN members?” Walker asked.
“They were housed at Los Alamitos Army Airfield in LA,” McCorkell said.
“The same place Harrington’s crew used,” Somerville added.
“They were taken there by Team Black?” Walker asked.
McCorkell nodded, said, “Apparently they were told it was a forty-eight hour security exercise.”
“And if the Internet had been shut down?” Walker said. “What then?”
“Team Black would’ve been free of safeguarding Jasper and all that, so who knows?” Somerville said. “Bullet to the head? Locked away somewhere a little more permanent? We may never know.”
“Only General Christie could answer that,” McCorkell said.
Walker said, “Ask her.”
“We have,” McCorkell said.
“Repeatedly,” Somerville added.
Walker said, “Be more persuasive.”
Somerville said, “She’s pleading the fifth.”
“Makes you appreciate the good old days . . .” Walker said. “An extraordinary rendition flight to Egypt or Syria would do the trick.”
“She’ll talk, eventually,” Somerville said.
“When she talks, we need her trigger,” Walker said. “What made her start this when she did.”
“Does it matter after the fact?” McCorkell said. “It’s too late. We have to keep moving forward.”
“You won’t find patterns if you only look forward,” Walker said. “What was General Christie’s Zodiac go-signal. We find that out, we may start getting ahead of this, maybe preventing what’s next before it starts playing out.”
“Perhaps there is no pattern,” Somerville said.
“There’s a pattern,” Walker said. He winced as he shifted his bandaged leg. “My father’s involved so there had to be. The NASA key ring and where it played out. He knew what was happening, and where.”
“On that . . .” McCorkell looked to Somerville.
“They’ve found your father,” she said.
Walker said, “Where?”
“Malta.”
“What’s in Malta.”
“Nothing much.”
“Who found him?”
“Interpol hit. We got lucky. They’re surveilling him. The government here knows. FBI wants to be there on the ground, they’ve just sent a snatch team. They want to bring him in.”
“When?”
“This time tomorrow,” Somerville said. “I’m on a flight in an hour. I’ll be there when it goes down.”
“I have to get there.” Walker made to get out of bed.
McCorkell waved him down.
“Book me a flight,” Walker said. “Fastest you can get.”
McCorkell watched as Walker steadied himself on his feet. His thigh was wrapped in a tight bandage. The color had drained from his face with the exertion.
Walker said, “My father is Zodiac, right? He has to be. And I’m the one who’s going to bring him in.”
Walker took a step. His leg gave out and he caught himself on the bed.
McCorkell said, “You can’t do this.”
“Stop me,” Walker said, trying to stand un-aided and failing. He steadied himself on the hospital bed.
“There’s another way,” McCorkell said. “I have a contact on the ground there in Malta—an old friend. And he can get to your father. Get him moving, buy some time. Maybe another twenty-four hours.”
“Do it,” Walker said, sitting down on the bed. “Get us another day. I leave tomorrow. This ends with my father. This ends the day after tomorrow.”