NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY
FORT MEADE, MARYLAND
Mark Schreiber poked his head into his supervisor’s fluorescent-lit office and said, “I think we’ve got another problem in Manhattan.”
“No kidding,” replied Joseph Stanton, jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward the flat-panel televisions on the wall behind him. “Some idiot blogger started a rumor that a bio agent was part of the attack and no matter what Mayor Brown says, nobody is listening to him.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” replied Schreiber as he stepped the rest of the way inside and closed the door behind him. “Transcon and Geneva Diamond are unresponsive.”
Stanton stopped what he was doing and laid down his purple highlighter. His bespectacled face was bloated from a diet too rich in sodium, along with too many Hennessy-and-Cokes after hours. His hair was unkempt and his entire wardrobe seemed to be permanently wrinkled. He wore a seersucker suit that should have been retired years ago and a striped regimental tie decorated with coffee stains. “Unresponsive how?”
“Nobody’s answering e-mail.”
“Did you try calling them?”
Schreiber nodded his head. “The phones don’t seem to be working.”
“How about pinging the servers?”
“I did that and it comes back A-Okay. Still processing.”
“So what’s the problem?” asked Stanton.
“If we can ping the servers via satellite and get a response, then why isn’t their e-mail working? It piggybacks off the same system.”
“ New York ’s in chaos right now. We don’t know what the damage is or what services have been interrupted. Let’s not worry about it.”
“You don’t find it a bit odd that we can’t connect with two of our substations?”
“Considering everything that’s going on up there, not really. The servers are still churning, right? You said so yourself. So, someone has got to be processing data.”
“Yeah, but I just have a bad feeling about it,” replied Schreiber.
“We’re under attack, so having bad feelings is understandable. Give it a little while longer. I’m sure we’ll hear something.”
“And if we don’t?”
Stanton didn’t have time for this. “Then we’ll have a friendly neighborhood beat cop stroll by and give us a report.”
“You’re joking, right?” said the young man.
Of course he was joking, and if this kid spent a little more time interacting with real live people and a little less time at his computer, he might know it. Picking up his highlighter and turning his attention back to the stack of paperwork on his desk, Stanton replied, “It’s going to be a very long night, Mark. Why don’t you take a few minutes, relax, and then see what kind of sourcing help they’re going to need upstairs.”
“Fine, but if we still don’t hear anything from New York?”
“Then we’ll dig a little deeper. But for now, I want you focused on helping the people here who need it the most. I’ve been to Transcon and Geneva Diamond. Believe me, those folks know how to handle themselves.”