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Neither man understood how it worked, how the way the atoms aligned in the crystals was the key to the computer’s ability to deal with quantum fluctuations and counter atomic-scale interference. It had taken years, and the harnessing of the computer farm aboard the J-61, to make it a reality.
When they had turned it on, the machine seemed inert for the first thirty seconds. The scientists weren’t sure if they had succeeded until a disembodied female voice had emanated from the speakers placed in Bahar’s office, saying simply, “Ready.”
The first test had been to switch all the interactive traffic lights in Prague from red to green or vice versa. The computer hacked into the traffic-control system instantaneously and did as instructed, before turning control back over to city authorities. Eerily, it asked, “Why?”
“Because you were told to,” Bahar had replied to the microphones also hidden in his office. His answer had taken a moment because no one had thought the computer would question him. When asked, the computer scientists who’d assembled the computer had no explanation.
They did more elaborate tests, finding better-encrypted systems to infiltrate, until they were convinced that no network on the planet was impervious to their machine and that no database could remain secret.
That is when they launched the assault on the NSA to obtain the nuclear codes. It was rumored that the computers at the National Security Agency weren’t measured in teraflops or petaflops, which is the number ten to the fifteenth power, but rather were measured by the acre. It had taken Bahar’s machine a half second to penetrate the firewalls and access the code.
So with success piled atop success, Gunawan Bahar had been a happy man until he saw that the American response to his demands had been a tepid article buried at the back of a Washington newspaper.
“I was too easy on them the first time,” he railed. “I tried to show my compassion, my humanity, and he spits in my face. I am not some insane fanatic bent on murdering infidels until the very last one is dead, but if that is what he wants of me, then that is what I will become.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Are you there?”
“Yes,” came the calm voice.
“Send this message to the White House: You will give a live speech from the Oval Office or they will all die of thirst, and then I want you to shut down all fifty-one pumping stations that feed water into Las Vegas, Nevada, and don’t turn them back on until I say so.” He’d learned earlier that he needed to be very specific with place-names.
“Task complete,” the computerized voice said tonelessly.
“Let’s see how long he’ll let those people bake in the desert heat before he tells the world that he no longer controls his nation’s destiny. What do you think, Abdul? Clever, yes?”
“Yes, very,” Mohammad said, but he didn’t agree. If it were up to him, every reactor in America would have gone critical days ago. He didn’t understand why his superior was toying with the Americans.
“That was hardly convincing, my friend. You think we should destroy the Great Satan and be done with it.”
Bahar never asked his opinion, so it came as a surprise now. Unsure, Mohammad finally nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“You don’t enjoy the irony of us meddling in their policies the way they have meddled in ours. For two generations the Americans have said which regimes rise and fall, and used that capability with little regard for the people it affects. Now we can do the same to them, to tell them their place in the world, to make them feel what it is like to be under someone else’s thumb for a change.
“They call the American president the most powerful man in the world. Well, tonight he will do my bidding, making me the most powerful man. We couldn’t defeat them on the field of battle or break their will with suicide attacks, but now we have used their dependence on technology to cow them.
“Soon I will decree that American Christians must begin to study the Koran in their schools so that, over time, they will convert to the one true faith. Why destroy them, Abdul, when we can enfold them into Islam?”
Emboldened, Mohammad said, “That will never work.”
“At one time there was only one Muslim, the Prophet Muhammad, blessings be upon him, but from that single seed the faith spread through conversion after conversion. It is still happening today, as Arabs move into Europe and begin to make converts of the people. True, it happens mostly in prisons, but when these new Muslims are released, they tell their families of their wonderful conversions, and maybe one or two join as well. By exposing Americans to the Koran at a young age, we will accelerate the process. In fifty years America will be an Islamist state. The rest of the Western world will follow suit, mark my word. And I won’t even have to threaten them.”
Bahar placed his hands on each side of Mohammad’s face as though he were about to kiss him, and, for a moment, Abdul feared he might. “Let go of your hatred, my friend. The struggle between the Muslims and Christians has endured for more than a thousand years. So what if it takes fifty or a hundred more? We have guaranteed that our side shall be victorious.”
Abdul Mohammad knew his superior’s plan was doomed to fail for the simple reason that somehow, and not that far in the future, the Americans would figure out
where they had constructed the computer and find a way to isolate it or, more likely, destroy it. Their window of opportunity was a short one, and Bahar had delusions of becoming like the Prophet himself. They should strike the U.S. now, he thought, and tear her apart at the seams. Playing games and planning for a future that would never come to pass were a waste of the only opportunity they’d ever had to conquer their sworn enemy.
He hadn’t been privy to Bahar’s plans for the quantum computer and wished they had discussed it previously. Maybe he could have changed his mind. But looking into Bahar’s eyes and seeing the spark of megalomania that lurked in their depths, Abdul knew it was too late. They were committed to his fantasy that he was to become the Madhi of Islamic prophecy, and it wasn’t in Abdul to go against his superior’s wishes.
24
THEY MET THE FOLLOWING MORNING IN THE OREGON’S sleek conference room. Juan wanted to keep the group small, so it was just him, Eric Stone, Soleil, and, because they were becoming good friends, Linda Ross. Up on the monitors Eric had the financial information pertaining to all of Roland Croissard’s recent business deals. The man had his finger in a lot of pies, and, because she was not part of his life in recent years, Soleil knew little of it.
Juan believed that whatever Bahar wanted from Roland Croissard, the deal would have happened shortly after her kidnapping, but, to be thorough, they went back six months. The material was so dry that dust seemed to fall from the plasma screens. This was work only an accountant could love, and, by the beginning of the second hour, he could tell Soleil was becoming frustrated.
“Non, I did not know my father bought into an Indian steel mill,” she said when Eric pointed out the three-million-euro deal. This happened just a day before she was abducted. “Why should I?”
“No reason,” Juan assured her. “Okay, what about this? Two days after you were taken, he sold his stake in a Brazilian appliance company. Does that mean anything to you?”
“No. Nothing.”
