Chapter 6

six

ALEX

While Dylan studied the whiteboard, I moved a stack of papers off a chair. I wasn't entirely comfortable with him being here. Not because of Dylan, but because I rarely needed help from anyone. And when I did, they never came to my home.

Of all the rooms in my house, the office was my sanctuary. It defined me and kept me on track. Somewhere between the photos and the framed certificates on the walls, I found the motivation to reinvent what everyone else took for granted.

My single-minded determination had given me a lifestyle I would have envied twenty years ago. My goal was simple. I wanted a better life than my parents. It wasn’t until my mom died that I questioned some of the decisions I’d made.

I tilted my head sideways. For all my surprise at meeting Dylan, he was better looking than any IT specialist I’d worked with. He was stubborn, too. And if that spark of independence didn’t intrigue me, his mind did .

“You have an interesting way of thinking,” he said quietly, cutting through the silence in the room.

Dylan was still studying the whiteboard, no doubt trying to make sense of the linked concepts. He wasn’t the first person who’d looked at my brainstorming technique and wondered how I solved anything.

“I have a color-coded system. If you see anything in red, it’s urgent. Orange is interlinked with other processes or resources, and yellow’s important but not essential.”

Dylan pointed to a blue line. “What does that mean?”

“It links two unrelated theories.”

“Satellites and ocean waves?”

“I have a good imagination.” I handed him a folder. If Dylan was as good as Ryan told me, he’d soon realize what I was doing. “This is the first part of my design document.”

Dylan took the folder but continued to study the board. “You’re interested in simplified pulse waveforms. But why the focus on satellites? If your primary goal is to develop a program that eliminates lightning strikes on aircraft, it wouldn’t need to work in outer space.” His eyes widened. “Unless you’re planning on disrupting the electromagnetic pulses from satellites or nuclear weapons.”

I sat on the edge of my desk, waiting for what he’d say next.

Dylan glanced at me before opening the folder. He quickly turned the pages, then finally lifted his eyes. Whether he was shocked or impressed, I couldn’t tell.

“An attack on America using electromagnetic pulses will never happen.”

I reached for another folder. “Have you heard about Starfish Prime?”

“It was part of a series of high-altitude nuclear tests the Department of Defense carried out in the 1960s. They detonated an atomic bomb above Hawaii. But the damage from the electromagnetic pulse was minimal.”

“That’s what the government wanted everyone to believe. Look in the folder.”

Dylan turned to the first page of the report. The executive summary showed just how wrong everyone had been. “There were power outages along the West Coast.”

“The power grid was immobilized for three minutes,” I told him. “That doesn’t sound like a long time, but it was enough to disrupt every commercial and residential property in five states.” A large electromagnetic pulse attack would be catastrophic. There’d be no more engines, electricity, or water. No more of everything people take for granted.

Dylan frowned. “No one reported any problems with the power. Why?”

“The bomb was detonated at eleven o’clock at night. Everyone was told maintenance in the substations would cause minor disruptions. Backup generators provided power to hospitals and other commercial businesses.”

Dylan looked around the office. Apart from the whiteboard, another wall was plastered with notes, photos, and equations. Most people wouldn’t see the connection between the different elements, but I was almost positive Dylan did.

“You really think it’s possible to launch a cyber-attack on America?”

I nodded. “We’ve already proven it’s possible. Until six months ago, the threat was minimal. That’s changed, and the Department of Defense wants a system that will block any EMP attack.”

“And your program will do that?”

“When I fix it, it will. The program can be added to any early warning missile system, satellite or, in the case of aircraft, into their flight control systems.”

Dylan followed one of the color-coded lines on the whiteboard. “It must have taken you months to map out what the program needs to do. Did you design the entire program from here?”

“No. I worked with a group of people in Washington, D.C. After our funding was approved, we split into teams. I’m only responsible for this part of the project.”

“Why didn’t you ask the other people to help?”

I took a deep breath. “There’s been a security breach. I don’t know who I can trust.”

Dylan’s eyes narrowed. “What happened?”

“Details about the project were leaked to the media. The Washington, D.C. PR machine kicked into gear to discredit what was said. But all it takes is for one foreign government to listen, and we could have a major incident on our hands.”

“Who’s in charge of the project?”

I walked across to the photos on the wall and pointed to one of them. “This is Richard Leigh, the chairperson of the EMP project. He coordinates the work that’s happening around the country.”

“Does he know the program isn’t working?”

“He knows there’s a possibility we won’t make the testing facility’s time frame.”

Dylan crossed his arms. “He won’t be happy.”

“No one will be.” I turned away from the photos. “We’re working against the clock to bring everything together.”

Dylan pulled out a chair in front of another desk and opened his laptop. “We’d better make a start, then. Can you send me a copy of the program? After I’ve read through your project notes, I’ll have a look at the coding. ”

I didn’t bother telling him I’d already gone through the code. He knew as well as I did how easy it was to overlook an error. I just hoped the problem could be fixed in the next three weeks. Otherwise, my reputation and the project’s budget would be reduced to a pulp. And that’s an outcome I wasn’t prepared to accept.