Page 41 of The 24th Hour

“Court is adjourned until tomorrow morning at nine o’clock.”

CHAPTER 52

JOE AND BAO had been sitting in Joe’s car, watching the ferry terminal for over an hour. Ferries had docked, boarded, and launched. In all, ferries had arrived from five points across the bay and hundreds of passengers had disembarked.

Bao had her laptop open. She had uploaded Thordarson and Wooten’s threat-catcher program, which indicated computer signals that hopped over oceans and continents. Presently, it showed an enlarged image of Northern California and was alive with pinpoints of light forming clusters and breaking apart. Not a single light came toward or departed from the ferry terminal. There were no hits on St. Vartan’s Hospital that were also tagged as having hit on an office building in Amsterdam.

Joe said to Bao, “I’m calling Thordarson and Wooten.”

Peter Wooten answered the video call.

Bao said, “We can see you. How’s our reception?”

“First-class,” said the red-haired cyber tracker from his office on Fremont Street.

Joe said, “Pete, if I’m St. Vartan’s, I’m asking, can’t you just unplug the hospital network to stop the bleeding?”

“We’ve taken a few computers off the servers. But if we disconnect the system, there are two possibilities that are as real as death. One, if Apocalypto has booby-trapped the system, it will trigger a complete shutdown and the damage will be biblical. Also, if we disconnect the server, we can’t track the signal back to the attackers.”

“Okay. My background in cyber threats is out of its league,” said Joe.

“Not mine,” said Bao.

“Nor mine,” said Wooten. “I know you feel like nothing is happening, Joe. We need more time and this is our best chance to pull the line and hook them.”

“Got it,” Joe said. “All’s clear at the ferry terminal.”

“Keep the faith,” said Wooten. “We’re tagging incoming searches, so if they come up again …”

Joe left the conversation to Bao. She lived and breathed cyberterrorism. He wondered why Steinmetz had pulled a risk assessment specialist into a cyberwar with lethal consequences. He listened with one ear as tech talk flowed between the woman sitting beside him and a man who’d spent the last six years of his life becoming a cyber threat catcher.

He heard Wooten say, “We’re making progress by process of elimination,” then goodbyes, and Bao cut their connection.

“Had enough?” she said to Joe.

“Mmmm. I say we grab a slice then go back to Mission Street.”

Bao said, “How do you like your pie?”

“Extra pepperoni with jalapeños.”

“I wish I’d bet on that.”

Joe laughed.

The pizza was hot and good enough, Bao was great company on a dull gray day, and it was good to have a partner again, especially one who understood the nuances of cyber warfare. But the clock was running out on the patients at St. Vartan’s, and the clock was loud and persistent.

Joe let out a sigh, and Bao looked up as they cruised toward FBI HQ.

“Joe? It’s good that we manned the ferry terminal, but it was a long shot. Wooten and Thordarson have the big guns. If or when they call us with a hit—”

“I like ‘go’ a lot more than ‘wait.’”

Bao said, “I know. Get ready. Get set. Stand down.” She dropped her eyes to her laptop, where the threat-catcher program displayed attacks in real time.

Joe crossed Market Street, took a left on McAllister Street to Polk to Mission, and was backing into a spot when his phone buzzed.

“It’s Steinmetz,” he said, pressing the button on his console. “Craig? We’re parking a block from the office. You’re on speaker.”

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