Each member of the Standing Committee now held one of the jewel cases. The general secretary stared intently at the disk inside, as if he was trying to read its contents from the glints of light on its surface. The vice president, in contrast, slammed his jewel case on the table and glared at Module 73. “So who are they?” he demanded. “Who did this to us?”
The Module returned his stare. Incorporating the vice president into the network would be nearly as difficult as incorporating the general secretary, but Supreme Harmony recognized that such a step wasn’t strictly necessary. The network could make this man do its bidding without lobotomizing him. “The terrorists aboard the
China Explorer
were Muslim separatists from Xinjiang Province. They had close connections to the Uighur Muslims who instigated the riots in Xinjiang three years ago.”
“I knew it!” The vice president turned to his fellow committee members. “Didn’t I warn you about those filthy snakes? Didn’t I say we needed to crush them without mercy?”
His allies on the committee murmured their assent. This explanation for the catastrophe confirmed their expectations, which was why Supreme Harmony had chosen this particular lie. Human beings, the network had observed, were more willing to believe something if it dovetailed with their other beliefs.
The general secretary, however, continued to study the disk in his hands. The other members of the Standing Committee patiently waited for his response. After several seconds, he finally put down the jewel case. “I was afraid of this. For a long time I’ve worried that the Uighurs would adopt the heinous tactics of the Muslim terrorists in other parts of Central Asia.” He shook his head. “But organizing this kind of operation? Commandeering a cruise boat and loading it with explosives and enlisting the help of officers in the dam’s security force? This is a very complex undertaking.” He turned to Module 73. “How were they able to do it? What did you learn from the men you interrogated?”
The Module nodded. “Your instincts are correct, Mr. Secretary. The Uighurs received assistance from other parties. The terrorists fled Xinjiang after the riots there and went to Pakistan, where they trained with the jihadist militias. But their overriding goal was to attack China, so they eventually made their way to Taiwan. They found shelter with a radical student group that violently opposes the People’s Republic. This group provided the Uighurs with money and false passports, enabling them to return to our country and launch their operation.”
“What about the explosives?” the general secretary asked. “Where did the terrorists obtain them?”
The Module suppressed a smile. The next lie would be Supreme Harmony’s masterstroke. “I’m afraid this is the most disturbing of all our discoveries. The Uighurs acquired the dynamite from the smugglers who work the border between Yunnan Province and Burma. As you know, the northernmost part of Burma is controlled by rebel militias that smuggle opium into our country. And this chaotic region has long served as a base for CIA agents who provide arms to the local warlords and foment trouble on our southern border.” Module 73 paused once more, his longest pause yet. “According to the men we interrogated, the CIA arranged the sale of the dynamite to the Uighurs. The American intelligence agency was actively involved in the plot.”
The reactions of the Standing Committee were just as extreme as Supreme Harmony had expected. Several committee members reared back in their chairs, as if struck by a strong wind. The vice president clenched his hands. “Are you sure about this?” he asked. “Absolutely sure?”
“I’ve received a report from Yang Feng, the Guoanbu’s chief agent in Washington. He has confirmed the CIA’s involvement. I included Yang’s report on the computer disk.”
Glowering, the vice president opened his mouth to say something else, but at the last second he remembered his place and turned to the general secretary. The other committee members were already looking at their paramount leader, waiting for his guidance. The general secretary, meanwhile, sat motionless at the head of the table, his arms folded across his chest.
“I don’t understand,” he finally said. “Why would the Americans take such a risk? Did they think we wouldn’t discover their treachery? Did they imagine we wouldn’t respond in kind?”
No one answered at first. It was possible, Supreme Harmony thought, that the general secretary didn’t expect an answer. But after several seconds the vice president leaned across the table, propping himself on his meaty fists. “The Americans are cowards,” he said. “No different from the jihadis they’ve been fighting all these years. Killing innocents is nothing new for them.”
The general secretary shook his head. “I know they’re capable of doing this. What I don’t understand is the reasoning behind it.”
“They’re afraid of us,” the vice president replied. “The Americans see how strong China is, how fast we’re growing. They know our economy will soon be bigger than theirs. And they see the power of our military, all the submarines and jets and aircraft carriers we’re building.” He raised his hands and gestured expansively to indicate the might of the People’s Liberation Army. “The American forces have more advanced technologies, but the gap is shrinking as we modernize our weapons. So the warmongers in Washington decided to strike now, before we grow too strong. They tried to cripple us by attacking while our backs were turned!”
The eyes of the committee members, which had been fixed on the vice president as he argued his point, swung back to the general secretary. The older man frowned. “But it’s such a foolish thing to do. So blunt and ineffective. When the world sees the evidence that Minister Deng has collected, all the civilized nations will be horrified. Every country will shun America and come to our aid, doing everything they can to help us recover. In a few years China will be stronger than ever. This seems perfectly obvious to me. So why didn’t the Americans see it?”
Supreme Harmony was growing concerned. The general secretary was a canny human. His caution was cooling the committee’s ardor. The network recognized that it had to intervene, so it directed Module 73 to raise his hand. “Mr. Secretary, may I offer an observation? The CIA has a long history of conducting operations that turned out, in the end, to hurt the long-term interests of the United States. It’s possible that the CIA agents in northern Burma didn’t know exactly what the Uighur terrorists were planning to do with the explosives. And it’s quite likely that the CIA’s leaders in Washington weren’t keeping close tabs on their operatives in Burma.”
These remarks appeared to make an impression on the general secretary. He tilted his head back, deep in thought. “So what are you saying? That this catastrophe was a mistake?”
“No, not a mistake. The Americans are to blame. But it was more likely the result of recklessness rather than a carefully thought-out plan.”
The general secretary narrowed his eyes. “And how should we respond to this recklessness?” His voice rose, becoming heated. “Should we forgive the Americans because their intelligence agents are renegades?”
“Not at all.” The Module shook his head firmly. “On the contrary, I believe we must order a swift and devastating retaliation against the United States. They’ve meddled in our internal affairs for far too long, and now we have the opportunity to ensure that they never do so again. Given the horrible losses we’ve suffered at their hands today, our actions will be completely justified.”
The vice president half-rose from his chair. “Yes, exactly! We should act as quickly as possible. The People’s Liberation Army is already on alert because of the crisis. They can strike the American forces near our territorial waters and deliver a crushing blow to their puppet army in Taiwan. We’ll teach them a lesson they’ll never forget!” He slammed his fist on the table with such force that half of the teacups toppled. “I recommend that we call a meeting of the Central Military Commission. I can summon the senior officers here within the hour.”
Module 73 raised his hand again. “I’d like to attend that meeting, Mr. Vice President. The Guoanbu has collected information on potential targets in Taiwan and the East China Sea.”
The vice president swiveled his head toward the general secretary. “Would that be all right with you, sir? Minister Deng’s input could be useful.”
For a moment it seemed that the older man would say no. He looked ruefully at the vice president, as if noticing for the first time how simpleminded the man was, how unprepared for the complexities of leadership. But then he let out a long sigh and nodded, and Supreme Harmony realized that it had won another battle.
“We have no choice,” the general secretary said. “Millions of our countrymen have died today. We must take action.”
SIXTY-THREE
At nine o’clock the next morning Jim saw a familiar shape on the horizon. About twenty miles to the west stood a row of snowcapped peaks, each a white triangle against the deep blue sky, lined up so neatly they resembled the scales on a dragon’s back.
Trying to get a better view, he leaned forward in the passenger seat of the battered sedan that he and Kirsten had acquired yesterday. Jim had seen these peaks before but not with his own eyes. It was Arvin Conway who’d viewed this mountain range and stored the visual memory in his flash drive. Jim reached for his satellite phone, which was connected to Arvin’s device, and displayed the image of Yulong Xueshan on the phone’s screen. His throat tightened as he stared at the serrated edge of Jade Dragon Snow Mountain. His daughter was somewhere in the belly of the dragon.
Kirsten had been driving for the past four hours. She and Jim had taken turns at the wheel since yesterday afternoon. They’d purchased the sedan from a gas station owner on the outskirts of Yichang, telling him they’d lost their old car in the flood and needed a new one so they could search for their missing relatives. Although the man was sympathetic, he still demanded eight thousand American dollars for the vehicle, a ten-year-old Chinese model roughly similar to a Honda Civic. In the end, though, it turned out to be a good deal. They made excellent time as they drove across central China to the highlands of Yunnan Province. Now they were on a dirt road winding through wooded terrain that reminded Jim of the foothills bordering the Colorado Rockies. If the circumstances were different, he thought, he would’ve enjoyed hiking across these hills.
Jim raised the satellite phone for a moment to compare the image on the screen with the mountains he saw through the windshield. Then he closed the file and retrieved another, a file holding nothing but a chunk of binary code. The phone’s screen displayed a sequence of zeroes and ones, 128 of them in all: 00111010100110111010011000100110111000101010000101110011010011100101010111010010111001011001000111010100110110011001100110111100.
The chunk wasn’t especially big. It took up less than a quarter of the space on the phone’s screen. And yet this 128-bit sequence was the most important piece of data in the world right now. This was the shutdown code that could disable Supreme Harmony.
Jim had discovered the code just an hour ago. Arvin had said it was hidden in the picture of Medusa, but when Jim converted the 300-kilobyte image to binary code—the language of all microprocessors—a stream of 2.5 million zeroes and ones ran across the sat phone’s screen. At first, Jim was flummoxed. Locating the shutdown code within this long stream of data seemed an impossible task. But then he remembered that robotics programmers such as Arvin often placed distinctive markers before and after the sections of code they wanted to highlight. And after a few minutes of thought, Jim realized what kind of marker Arvin would’ve used. In his mind’s eye he saw the yellowed sheet of paper taped to Arvin’s desk in his lab at Singularity, Inc. Printed on the paper was the forty-bit sequence of zeroes and ones that represented the old man’s first name. Jim had a gift for memorizing long numbers, and he’d seen this particular sequence every day of the ten years he’d worked in Arvin’s lab: 0100000101110010011101100110100101101110.
Jim typed the zeroes and ones into the satellite phone and searched for the forty-bit sequence in the stream of data from the Medusa image. As he expected, the marker appeared twice in the stream, and in between the markers was the 128-bit sequence. He knew right away this was the shutdown code. One hundred and twenty-eight bits was a standard length for certain kinds of data, including the encryption keys commonly used to encode and decipher classified communications. Jim grinned, allowing himself a moment of triumph. Then he spent the next hour memorizing the 128 zeroes and ones. It was more difficult, of course, than memorizing a forty-bit sequence, but he knew it cold by the time Yulong Xueshan came into view.
Now Jim stared at the sat phone’s screen one more time to double-check his memory. Then he turned to Kirsten, who was negotiating one of the many hairpin turns on the dirt road. “Okay,” he said. “I have a new plan.”
“It’s about time,” she replied. Her voice was low and tired.
Jim tapped his phone’s keyboard and retrieved another image from Arvin’s flash drive. Filed in the same category as Arvin’s memories of the Yunnan Operations Center, this image showed a tall transmission tower standing near the highest peak of Jade Dragon Snow Mountain. “That’s the target,” he said, holding up the screen for Kirsten to see. “You can also see it over there.” He pointed ahead, toward Yulong Xueshan, where the tower was a thin gray line among the peaks. “It’s several miles north of the Operations Center.”
Kirsten turned her head so that the video cameras in her glasses could focus on the western horizon. “Is that the radio tower for the Supreme Harmony network?”
Jim nodded. “It connects the servers and routers at the Operations Center with all the Modules and drones swarms deployed in the area. It’s also linked by fiber-optic lines to other transmission stations across the country. If I can broadcast the shutdown code from that tower, I think I can disrupt the whole network.”
“So you identified the code in the data stream?”
He nodded again. “And now I know how it works. Arvin’s memories include a circuit diagram of the microprocessor he built for the retinal implants, and the diagram shows the location of the Trojan horse. The altered circuit is in the section of the chip that carries the stream of visual data to the first set of logic gates. If the Trojan detects the shutdown code in the data, it shunts a high-voltage current to the transistors and short-circuits the chip.”