The Second Ship (The Rho Agenda #1)(50)

“We are dead.”





Chapter 33





Mrs. O’Reilly’s desk sat at a right angle to the entrance to Principal Zumwalt’s office, facing directly out toward the door that opened into the hallway. Most days, as students waited for their respective turns to see the principal, they stared directly across at the spot where Mrs. O’Reilly pecked at the keys of her keyboard, occasionally peering out at them over the narrow rims of her spectacles, her wispy red hair making her head look like it was on fire.

For the moment, that spot was vacant, as was the office of the principal. The space was deathly silent except for their breathing, which, in stark contrast, seemed preternaturally loud, like the huffing of a dinosaur sniffing around for some hidden animal to eat. Unfortunately, it seemed Jennifer and Heather were the animals about to be eaten.

Inside Heather’s head, she had a clear mental image of a digital display counting rapidly down toward zero. How had the NSA made such a big jump in tracking down the source? There must have been something that Heather had overlooked, some hidden pattern in the virus that the supercomputers at Ft. Meade had spotted, enabling them to accelerate the trace.

That was the problem with not being a computer expert herself. She could only make accurate estimates of things she thoroughly understood. While Jennifer understood the computer world very well, Heather must have missed something in what her friend had described to her about the network configuration of the Internet.

She glanced over at Jennifer, who sat beside her with her head in her hands. There must be something they could do besides give up. Think, Heather. Think.

The mental countdown in her mind stood at one hour, thirty-two minutes, fourteen seconds, and counting, accounting for the nonlinear acceleration she observed in the trace data.

“Jen, you hanging in there?” Heather asked, although her own desperation had her near hyperventilation.

Jennifer looked up at her numbly. “Heather, I was so close. I had started uplinking the virus when Ms. Gorsky caught us. I barely had time to throw the PDA into screen saver lock before she grabbed it from me.”

Heather’s heart sank even further. “So you didn’t get it uplinked?”

Jennifer shrugged hopelessly. “I don’t know. I left the uplink going when I locked the screen saver. If she didn’t turn it off, then the uplink would go ahead and finish, but that doesn’t do us any good. I have to get on the Internet to activate it.”

Their chances of activating the Counter Trace Virus, or CTV, in the remaining amount of time did not look good. They needed to activate it as soon as possible to give the virus a chance to work its magic before the NSA got so close that there would be no masking the trail.

If they could just get the CTV going, it would act like antivirus software, but with one huge advantage. It knew the original virus pattern and could hop around rapidly eliminating all traces of the agents, even slightly modifying information in the appropriate Internet routing tables.

Actually it would leave behind a subtle trace, designed to lead the NSA to a false source, on selected routers.

One hour, twenty-nine minutes, forty-six seconds.

Heather glanced around desperately. Suddenly the nucleus of a plan formed in her brain. Standing up, she walked to the doorway and peered out into the hall. Except for an occasional passerby, it was empty. There was no sign of Mrs. O’Reilly, Principal Zumwalt, or Ms. Gorsky.

Glancing from the open doorway to the computer on Mrs. O’Reilly’s desk, Heather shook her head. There were just too many people passing in front of the office to make it possible for Jennifer to hack her way into the secretary's computer. Closing the door wasn’t an option. That door was never closed during school hours.

Heather glanced at the door beside Mrs. O’Reilly’s desk, the door into Principal Zumwalt’s office. It stood open awaiting his return. As Jennifer watched, wide-eyed, Heather walked over to the office and peered inside. There on the corner of the principal’s massive oak desk sat his computer keyboard and monitor, the screen saver showing an aquarium of colorful swimming fish, which seemed to peer out at her suspiciously.

With a deep breath, Heather walked back to check the hallway door once more. It was all clear, at least for the moment.

“Jen, can you hack into the principal’s computer?”

“Are you insane?” Jennifer looked as if she were debating making a run for it.

“Probably. But we’re out of time. Can you do it?”

Jennifer shook her head. “If I had enough time, but they could return at any second.”

“I’ll watch the door to the hall. You get in there and try. I’ll signal if someone comes.”

Jennifer’s hands began to shake.

Heather placed a hand on Jennifer’s shoulder. “Jen, I can’t do it. I need you. Mark needs you.”

At the mention of her brother’s name, Jennifer’s back straightened and the muscles in her jaw clenched.

“Okay. I’ll try.”

Seeing her gentle friend push her glasses higher on her nose and boldly stride into the office of the principal almost brought tears to Heather’s eyes. But she didn’t have time to cry now. With one more glance toward Jennifer, Heather moved to the hallway door and peeked out.

The minutes dragged by. Each time someone rounded the corner or came out a doorway and walked toward the office, Heather held her breath, moving back to her seat until they had passed.