MEETING GENE

Boston Logan Airport

13 hrs to Birth

After hanging up with the Cambridge police, Flannigan spent most of the rest of the drive on the phone with the Director's assistant Karen, with an individual from the Department of Homeland Security, and with her own personal assistant back in the office. She was making travel arrangements. She was sitting in the front seat, out of the earshot of the others. Sam was also on the phone while she drove, trying to learn something about Fort Tortuga. In the back seat, Simon worked silently on his laptop, while Kenny stared out the window, Preeti meditated, and Willard did nothing in particular.

Sam pulled up to Terminal A of Logan International Airport and parked the limo in the unloading zone. The vehicle was promptly abandoned by its passengers and towed by the airport police.

"Where's Gene?" Flannigan asked Sam.

"He didn't answer his phone."

Flannigan frowned but did not seem too surprised. She led them straight to a less-trafficked security aisle and asked for a security agent by name. It was the DHS official in charge of Logan. Flannigan's web of calls had gotten through just in time; he greeted her by name and asked for her badge. He did not look happy to see her.

He took them a few feet to a DHS office and closed the door.

"Okay, it's ready," the man said. "We have to lead you directly to your gate and straight out to the plane."

"One of our party is in the airport," Flannigan said. "We need to page him."

He bristled. "Nobody said anything about that."

Flannigan had to tread carefully. Her orders came from a much higher authority, but he was in charge of this operation and could delay them significantly. Power plays that crossed agency lines were fragile.

A knock came at the door. The man, whose name was Simpson, swung open the door.

"What is it?" he demanded.

A gangly man with Einsteinian hair stepped into the door frame. "Hello, sir, my name is Gene." He shook Simpson's hand.

"Excellent," Flannigan said. "That's our guy."

"Sorry to inconvenience you," Gene said genially. He stepped into the room and extended his hand again. "Sarah Connolly Flannigan," he said. "And Simon Chan!" he smiled. "I understand that the situation is urgent," he said, "but Sarah, I would strongly suggest that we take the time for a briefing before we get on the plane. I think ten minutes would be a worthy investment. Mr. Simpson, I know it's quite an imposition, but could we borrow your office for a moment?"

"No one said anything about this," Simpson growled. "You need to get on your plane and get out of here."

"Mr. Simpson," Gene said sympathetically, "I understand we are intruding, but I think you'll find this meeting is in your best interest as well."

"How is that?"

"You see, Mr. Simpson, the additional disruption to your operations from this meeting will be minimal. Even if we caused a delay in flights, that outcome would be relatively routine. On the other hand, if we do not have this meeting before take-off, I will be obligated by direct orders to report the fact to my superior. And whether I like it or not, he is likely to contact your superior if I do so."

"You have ten minutes," Simpson said, and left, looking at his watch.

Flannigan barely knew Gene, but she liked him better already. She looked at Willard. "Take these two outside," she said, pointing to Kenny and Preeti. He nodded and they were gone.

"I'm starving," Kenny said as they stepped out.

Willard realized how hungry he was, too. He had a headache. Mr. Simpson was standing next to them.

Willard eyed the Eagles sweatshirt Preeti was wearing. It didn't fit her hippie nature. "Eagles fan?"

"I am," Kenny clarified.

Willard nodded in approval.

"The Pats suck," Kenny noted.

"Yes, they do." They shared the bond of being pissed constantly at their team but feeling subject to a heartbreaking loyalty that could be pacified only by thoughts of kicking the crap out of fans from other cities.

Inside Simpson's office, Flannigan briefed Gene on the discovery of Nemo, Nemo's ability and intent, and the experience of storming Kenny's house that morning.

Gene listened closely, scarcely interrupting. Then he asked, "Did you ask him about the network slowdown?"

"What network slowdown?"

Gene blinked. "There is something bigger going on than switching web pages around. Would it be possible to talk to him before we go?"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Flannigan said.

"I was afraid you were going to say that."

"Any conversation between you two is not going to be short. And now that he has agreed to let us visit him, I don't want to jeopardize that."

She could almost see the gears spinning in his head, without having any clue what he was thinking. "In that case, we should get moving," he said.

They walked out and rejoined the others. Simpson led them through security. They were heading to an unused gate, to exit to the airfield and walk to their plane.

"Mr. Simpson," Gene said outside, "I wouldn't presume to tell you how to do your job, but I think some of today's news might impact operations here at the airport."

"What news?" They were walking out onto the pavement now. A little plane was waiting for them.

"If you turn on the news, you'll see that the Internet -- the whole thing -- is running slow today. It appears to be swamped with traffic. I saw the report at the gate where I disembarked from Dulles."

"Really?"

"Yes. We might have a crisis on our hands. I would keep a careful eye on your information systems at the airport."

"That's not really my responsibility."

"You may consider making it your responsibility. This is a serious matter. And while it may seem implausible that your systems would be affected by this event, I see a few reasons to believe otherwise."

"Why's that?"

They had reached the plane. The others got on while Gene waited a minute at the bottom and Simon stood on the stairs, listening.

"A slowdown of such a large scale is most likely the result of a computer virus. A supervirus, or an attack on the network that makes use of a supervirus. The fact that this supervirus has been able to affect the Internet so universally is remarkable, almost incredible. From that fact we can infer two things about the virus."

"Let's go!" Flannigan shouted out the plane door.

"The first is that the virus is omnivorous. It has already attacked a quite diverse range of systems on the Internet. Secondly, it is quite adaptable. It must be, to have conquered all of these systems. I would conclude that any information system with the slightest communication with the Internet is in danger. For example, airline booking systems, which are referenced by Internet sites that sell tickets. Or the air traffic control system, which provides flight status monitoring on the Internet."

"But the air traffic control system has nothing to do with it."

"It may. If this virus is as strong as it appears to be, it must be using a wide variety of attacks. It's like a biological virus that has been born highly resistant to all the factors that could kill it. It's a supervirus."

He turned unceremoniously and went up the stairs. Simon followed, frowning. After five minutes, the flight took off. After an hour, all flights were grounded until further notice.