The Project Read online

  “We don’t have much on Bobby, but it’s enough,” Andreas concluded.

  “And 7’Heaven is a perfect fit for Total Protection.”

  “Exactly,” Andreas agreed. “Total Protection buyers automatically receive 7’Heaven membership as a bonus. They absolutely love it.”

  “In fact, our marketers found out that most people buy Total Protection because of the free 7’Heaven membership,” added Moira Wilkinson, retail chain heiress and Andreas’s favorite Consortium member. Sharp, well informed, always on target.

  Andreas nodded. “Great point. And as you know, TP is purchasing the membership for them, which we wouldn’t have to do if we took over 7’Heaven.”

  “And that would be much easier if we make Bobby the CEO of TP.”

  “Do we need a formal vote?” Andreas asked. “Or does everyone agree that Bobby is our man?”

  “Provided we fire him after the launch. Before he pulls one of his tricks on us.”

  “And before he has a chance to cash in.”

  The Consortium had no sympathy for hired help.

  Nice, France

  Two days later

  “Hurry, Operation Sardegna starts now!” Nic was shaking Helen’s shoulder. She blinked her eyes, fighting the urge to go back to sleep. The old-fashioned alarm clock on the nightstand beamed 2:45 a.m. in the darkness.

  “Now? Wait, we are supposed to stay one more day in Nice.” It took Helen a few seconds to orient herself.

  “Change of plans. Get going. We have a ferry to catch.”

  Nic led them to the employee parking lot, stopped in front of a sleek two-seater Mercedes, and tossed Helen the keys. “You drive.”

  “How are we supposed to be invisible in this car?” Helen asked while settling into the driver’s seat.

  “We are a rich couple on vacation, remember?”

  Nic fired up his laptop, and they spent the four hours on the Autostrada Azzurra to Livorno, Italy, in silence.

  Helen didn’t mind. She needed the quiet time to sort out her thoughts. The assignment looked like a colossal waste of time so far. She didn’t get it. So much training and preparation for this? She had expected clear orders, goals, deliverables…working on counterterrorism apps. Developing artificial intelligence, AI, that could process zillions of signals in no time and destroy terrorists’ financial sources.

  But they had barely touched their laptops because Nic had insisted on practicing survival skills, as he called it. Putting on a wig and a baggy dress and moving like a different person.

  “Come on, drop the rich, privileged girl!” he’d snapped at her disapprovingly as she’d walked across the room.

  “What do you mean?” Helen asked, feeling anger coloring her cheeks.

  “Well, hunch your shoulders a bit. Don’t look so damn confident.”

  “That’s not what I asked.” Helen stopped in front Nic, jaw set. “Rich, privileged girls are frolicking on the yachts out there, sipping their champagne,” she said evenly. “They are not working op-codes. And when they stroll around Nice, they are shopping and enjoying themselves, not spotting hoodlums wearing aviator sunglasses.” Helen locked her eyes with Nic’s. “And that goes to why I am here. I am a cyber communications officer. Not some bloody spook hell-bent on playing James Bond. Got it?”

  “Are you done?” Nic stood up, his face inscrutable at first, but then a tiny, tender smile emerged and pulled at Helen’s heartstrings. Not knowing how to respond, she hadn’t.

  “OK. Let’s don’t waste any more time then.” Nic had given one of his rare smiles. “Imagine you are a mother of four, the rent is due in one day, and you’ve got no money to pay it. Got it? Now walk across the room.”

  Why was a whiz like Nic obsessed with invisibility? In cyberspace, yes. But on the streets? They weren’t invisible and never would be…

  Helen hated not having the whole picture. Nic’s secretiveness was killing her. Shouldn’t she know what he was working on on his laptop? They were supposed to be a team! She had asked Nic when they were leaving Nice, but he had waved his hand and grunted something unintelligible.

  So she had driven on, hoping that working on her “survival skills” and going on clandestine night drives on Italian highways somehow contributed to the Project. Every now and then she had peeked at Nic, but his eyes had been glued to the laptop.

  It was uncanny how much Nic looked like Josh yet how different they were.

  Josh was warm, Nic was cold. Josh shared, Nic withdrew. Josh was funny, Nic rarely laughed. Josh explained, Nic didn’t say a word. Josh praised, Nic criticized… She could go on and on. But it was pointless.

  Nic was alive and Josh was dead.

  The pain was almost unbearable.

  Livorno, Italy

  “Great driving,” Nic said when they entered the ferry terminal in Livorno, surprising Helen.

  She followed the attendant’s directions and drove into the humongous belly of the boat to Olbia, Sardinia. Exhaust fumes mixed with the metallic smell of heavy machinery assaulted her nostrils. She stepped out of the car and stretched.

  “Let’s get out of here and find some coffee.” She smiled at Nic. He nodded, observing the cars pulling in behind and next to them. Helen wished Nic would share with her what was going on, but he remained mum.

  “I think we are OK.” Nic scanned the cars around them once more. “Let’s get the coffee.”

  They got two large cappuccinos and took them outside on the upper deck, observing the line of cars still entering the ferry. Most of them tourists, but also trucks bringing supplies to Sardinia. Or Sardegna, as the locals called it.

  The last car drove on board, and the ferry blasted its horns, signaling it was leaving. Early morning fog still lingered above the water, and most people went inside as soon as the ferry cleared the harbor.

  Nic stepped closer to Helen and put his arm around her shoulders.

  “Our mission is simple,” he said quietly. “Several of our teams will be on the island, testing handheld communication units that will eventually be supplied to terrorists. The units are made in China, and they are selling them as absolutely secure and untraceable. Call them the ‘the new Chinese super-phones.’ Our task is to record what the teams do and use it to train the AI.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Not quite. Real insurgents will be training with the teams.”

  “What do we have to do with that?” Helen asked.

  “Not much, really. We are on call in case our teams require any assistance.”

  “We could have done that from DC.”

  “No. The insurgents must be absolutely certain that no one listens in on their communications. No clouds, no satellites, nothing. Otherwise they wouldn’t buy the units.”

  “But we are going to listen in.”

  “Yes. I worked on it in the car. That we are totally invisible,” Nic said seriously.

  “OK.” That was more like it. Helen grinned.

  “That’s why we are going a day early.” Nic talked a mile a minute now. “To test it. And a few other things.”

  “Can we test some of it here?” Helen asked. “We have at least six hours before the ferry makes it to Olbia.”

  “Sure, absolutely.” Nic looked around. “Let’s stay outside.”

  The sun started to break through, and they found two beach chairs in a shady part of the deck.

  “OK,” Nic began, and they forgot about time, absorbed in op-codes and secret communications.

  “Oh, we’ve lost connection.” Helen looked up, seeing only sea around them.

  Nic put his hand over hers and kissed her cheek. “Then we have to play the married couple,” he whispered in her ear.

  Helen chuckled. The connection came back on. The deck slowly filled with sunbathers, but they kept working in their secluded spot, challenging each other, sharing insights, laughing.

  We are a team. Overcome by a rare moment of happiness, Helen took a deep breath and watched the seagulls following t
he boat.

  An older woman who had sat on the deck for a while stood up and walked toward them, one hand holding down her large sun hat.

  “You two are such a lovely couple. Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

  “Of course not.” Helen smiled.

  “Are you on TP?” the woman asked.

  Nic tensed.

  “TP? No. What is it?” Helen kept smiling, but her mind was racing. TP? As in the Project?

  “Total Protection. It’s sort of a membership, but the best part is that you get access to free games, quizzes, and puzzles. And brain exercises.”

  “Awesome. Are you a member?” Helen asked, relieved that TP had nothing to do with their project.

  “I am one of the first members. It saved my life after my husband passed.”

  “I am so sorry.” Helen tilted her head.

  “So am I. Miss him every day. We had a good life together.”

  “Aw…that’s tough.” Helen knew. Her heart went out to the woman. “Kudos to TP for being there for you.”

  Helen could imagine how getting lost in puzzles and brain exercises helped escape the pain of losing a loved one. That’s what cracking cybersecurity riddles at Georgetown had done for her after losing her family. Immersing herself in mind-boggling computer programs had kept the pain at bay until she was strong enough to manage it.

  Nic shifted in his seat.

  “Most definitely,” the woman said. “Well, look TP up. You’ll enjoy it. And all the new friends you’ll make.” She waved and walked away.

  “We will.”

  “Did you…?” Helen turned to Nic and stopped herself mid-sentence. Nic looked like death. Helen slowly raised her eyes.

  Heavy black boots, black pants, large hands. Aviators. Looking directly at them, a smirk on his lips.

  Torralba, Sardinia

  One day later

  Nic was putting the last touches on the testing protocol and barely noticed the rugged countryside through which Helen drove them to Torralba, the site of the Nuraghe Santu Antine, one of the mysterious cone-shaped towers built in Sardinia during the Bronze Age.

  It wasn’t the fascinating secrets of the ancient nuraghic civilization that brought them to Torralba. Santu Antine, being one of the largest nuraghic sites, attracted a constant flow of visitors whose smartphones tirelessly transmitted texts, selfies, and videos, and thus provided the perfect testing ground for Nic’s new programs.

  He and Helen mingled with the tourists, seemingly shooting photos and videos just like anyone else, while putting their counterterrorism systems through the wringer. They spent hours walking around the site, testing and tweaking, testing and tweaking, until they couldn’t come up with any new improvements.

  Helen was deep in thought on the way back, unnerving Nic. They were finally working on their systems, just as she wanted. Nic didn’t understand. And he didn’t understand why Helen had opted for the Project in the first place.

  He looked at her, so elegant in her airy summer top, tucking a blond lock behind her ear. She could easily be one of the privileged, champagne-sipping young women frolicking on the yachts out there. Sporting a big engagement ring on her finger, given to her for real, not like the James Bond version from him. Or, given her degrees, she could have a cushy job somewhere with a nice office and no risks.

  Why would she play his wife, work on his systems, and drudge with him through Sardinia to collect data?

  They stopped in a small country inn for a late lunch. The tables were set outside in an olive orchard, and although no one else was in the restaurant, Nic headed for the farthest table.

  “Satisfied with our progress?” he asked, dreading that Helen was fed up with the Project and would leave him.

  “It’s OK for this assignment.”

  “But?” Nic observed her closely.

  “I know we have to develop the system at this level. But it’s not very effective having officers on the ground, intercepting the communications manually. We must have the ability to do it remotely, deploy artificial intelligence, and move from the local guys to the big fish that finance them. Destroy their operations before they can even start.”

  Nic was silent. She cut to the quick.

  “That’s how I designed the system in the first place,” he said finally.

  “What happened?” Helen tilted her head.

  “The Consortium.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Nic had her full attention now. He might just as well bite the bullet. “It was very difficult to find sponsors for the Project. We had several interested parties, but in the end, the financing fell through for one reason or another. Then someone from the Consortium contacted my dad. It looked like a good match. They were great in the beginning. Knowledgeable, helpful, committed. Until your uncle took over.”

  Helen stiffened. “Ugh… What has he done?”

  Nic registered the pain in her eyes. “Kicked out the guys who truly cared and put in his cronies who didn’t. I never met any of them because they canceled regular meetings.”

  “Oh. How did you communicate with them?”

  “Videoed. If you can call it that. They saw me, but I didn’t see them. Everything became a top secret. Decisions and plans were made anonymously through a computerized system. Imagine! And they stopped talking with me when Andreas changed the advisory role of the Consortium to a controlling role.”

  Helen frowned. “How—”

  “He convinced the president to give the Consortium the authority to run the Project.”

  Helen gasped. “That…that doesn’t sound like a regular procedure.”

  “It’s not.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” Helen slowly shifted her fork left and right on the table and then looked straight into Nic’s eyes. “I didn’t know anything about this. Andreas didn’t share much about the Project with me. But I’d understand if you don’t want to work with me.”

  “I didn’t want to work with you at first. I thought you are Andreas’s spy. But then you crushed it in the training.”

  Helen shook her head. A small smile pushed the tension from her face.

  “You know, I didn’t want to work on the Project. I had a great job in Jakarta. But Andreas convinced me. And now I am hooked. Your system is brilliant.”

  “Why?” Nic blinked. Brilliant. Her prize landed on him unexpectedly, and he didn’t know what to do with it.

  “Well, you know what they say: ‘Bits and bytes are as dangerous as bullets and bombs.’ I think that bits and bytes became more dangerous. That’s where the modern warfare’s shifting. And that’s how the war on terrorism will be won. With bits and bytes. Your system is right on.”

  Seeing the sparks back in her eyes, Nic relaxed. She isn’t quitting. A touch of sunshine caressed his soul.

  “That’s what I figured out the hard way. In Afghanistan. We need custom-designed information technology to win. That’s why I started to work on the system when I came back.” And it has kept me alive since, Nic thought but didn’t say.

  “How long did it take you to build it?” Helen asked.

  “Almost ten years.”

  Helen nodded. “I knew this wasn’t an overnight success.”

  “The worst part was getting the backing.”

  “I can imagine. By the way, is your dad still involved?” Helen asked.

  “Yes.” Nic leaned back in his chair.

  “What does he do?”

  Nic didn’t want to go there. But he didn’t want to lie either. “He’s Frank Crawford,” he said, unease clouding the sunny skies.

  “That’s great!”

  Nic shrugged.

  Enthusiasm flashed on Helen’s face and ebbed away, giving way to surprise. Nic understood. Frank had a reputation of being an honorable man.

  “Not all that glitters is gold.”

  “I see.” Helen’s eyes filled with sympathy.

  Nic still wouldn’t say that he liked her. But he no longer hated her.
<
br />   And together they had a much better chance.

  Alghero, Sardinia

  The next day

  “Anything else?” The waiter put down two pulpo salads.

  “Two more mineral waters, please,” Nic said.

  They were sitting in a restaurant on the sea promenade in Alghero, a medieval city on the northwest coast of Sardinia.

  Two large yachts were anchored in the gentle deep-blue waves, close enough to see people jumping in the water. Officers from one of their undercover teams were manning the yachts and trying out the Chinese super-phones. They had wrapped up the scheduled testing session a few minutes ago, leaving behind a batch of raw data needing to be processed. Helen double-checked that all communications were saved and fed to the artificial intelligence training program.

  Satisfied, she sat back, rested her eyes on the glistening sea, and absentmindedly listened to the clinking dinnerware and snippets of chatter. Delicious aromas floated around in the gentle breeze, and Helen allowed herself to take a short break.

  “AI running?” Nic asked.

  “Yes.”

  Nic rubbed his left elbow absentmindedly, which he did when something irked him. What is it now? Helen had no clue.

  As far as she was concerned, yesterday had been the first truly productive day since landing in Nice. Testing their systems at the Nuraghe Santu Antine site was exhausting, but it gave her confidence that they were up to the job. Even Nic had seemed pleased.

  Today they had started at the break of dawn, recorded and processed two sessions in Sassari, and moved on to Alghero. Everything went exactly as planned. But then again, it didn’t take much to upset Nic.

  Helen nibbled on her salad while keeping an eye on the people strolling by on the promenade. They all looked like tourists enjoying their vacations, but the unease triggered by the guy wearing the heavy boots and aviators kept her alert.

  Nic still rubbed his elbow, brow knitted into a frown. Mr. Perpetually Irritated.