Mojave Rescue. Tanya Stowe
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Drina’s company had been awarded a military contract to develop a nonlethal energy-directed weapon that would protect soldiers against supersonic missiles and unmanned aerial vehicles. Their energy-directed weapon needed to impact machines only, destroying the electronics of missiles and UAVs, rendering them useless against ground troops. But the weapon needed to be rechargeable to full power in a short time and, above all, small enough for transport on a ground vehicle. So far, Drina and her company had failed to meet those parameters.
Until today. Today faulty tests led Drina to an epiphany. The answer came to her in an amazing eye-opening moment, followed by hours of furious number crunching that proved her theory possible.
“The numbers from the test were off so I created an equation using new figures and...it worked. I solved the problem.” Drina repeated the news for the third time, just to hear the words out loud again.
Succeeding meant everything to her. Creating a nonlethal energy-directed weapon would secure her company’s position and create jobs. It would solidify Drina’s place in her parents’ exclusive scientific community, but most important, it would fulfill her deepest desire to protect American soldiers. Riddled by guilt, Drina was determined to create a weapon that would help protect America’s military personnel.
No one knew the secret that pushed Drina to work long hours, to forget to eat and sometimes even to sleep. Not even Bill, the mentor who had hired her straight out of MIT four years ago, knew what drove her. It was her secret alone to nurse, obsess about and feel guilt over.
Sometimes Drina wondered if even God knew.
“Bill, I reworked the equation five different ways and it worked every time. We’ll be able to recharge the weapon to full power in less than three minutes.”
“Full power?” For the first time, Bill’s voice sounded awake and alert.
“Full. Power. And I think we’ll be able to reduce the weight. We might even be able to go small enough for it to be carried on a soldier’s back. We just need—”
“Stop, Drina! Don’t say another word. This is my home phone. It’s not a secure line.”
Drina’s breath caught in her throat. As an electronic warfare engineer, she thought in numbers, not words. Most of the constant security hype sounded like Hollywood fiction to her and she paid little heed. No matter how hard Bill tried, his emphasis on protocol and top secret measures usually went right over her head.
But not tonight. Tonight his words sent a wave of cold washing through her.
Perhaps the recent briefing by the base’s head of security had impacted her more than she’d realized. He’d definitely made an impression, but it was more along the lines of his all-American good looks.
Tall, dark hair, more handsome than he had a right to be. Blue-gray eyes. Even a cute little dimple when he smiled. He had those strong, masculine, next-door-neighbor looks that most women Drina’s age called cheesy but secretly adored. The kind of look that said, “Let me take care of you. I can carry the weight of the world.”
Drina might have fallen for that look years ago. In fact, she did fall for it. John had that same aura about him. Now he was dead and Drina was saddled with guilt. She wouldn’t forget that lesson.
No one was that capable, and movies were just moving pictures with pretty people. Cal Norwood could have walked straight out of one of those Hollywood plots Drina abhorred. That was probably why she hadn’t paid much attention to his talk about eyes and ears everywhere. Now she wished she’d listened.
Even as her breath caught in her throat, a click echoed over her connection with Bill. Someone else was listening on their line.
Yep. Definitely should have paid attention.
“Drina...” Bill’s voice was low and taut. “Where are you? No. Don’t answer. Don’t give that info out over the line.”
Her stomach flip-flopped.
“Where is your work?” Bill’s tone was as tense as Drina felt.
“Most of it’s on my computer.”
“All right. You know the protocols. Email it to me using our secure server then contact Norwood. He’ll know what to do.”
“Okay.”
Bill hung up. Drina heard the distinct double click of another line disconnecting from his landline. Someone had been listening.
Everything around her was dark except for the single light spilling onto her desk. All the other workers had left hours ago. She was alone, miles away from the main base in a secluded section of the rocket site.
Drina’s heart threatened to pound out of her chest. But she couldn’t move. Couldn’t lower the phone from her ear.
Protocols. Bill said follow the protocols. She dropped her cell phone. Scratch sheets of equations covered the top of her desk. She scooped them into her arms and fed them twenty at a time into the shredder. The teeth jammed on the thick pile. Drina had to pull it loose and start again, running only ten at a time through the machine.
All the while, a small part of Norwood’s two-hour lecture on security flashed through her mind. She didn’t know why she remembered that particular portion word for word, but the memory of his firm, modulated voice kept her on task and calm.
Be mindful of those around you. Janitors. Cooks in the lunch cafeteria. Your coworker in the next cubicle. Eyes and ears are all around us. You never know who might be listening, gathering information.
The last of the scratch paper disappeared into the shredder. Drina sighed with relief. Grabbing her laptop, she saved the file with her own personal code, then linked with her company’s secure internet connection.
Linking took precious seconds. Drina’s fingers drummed on the desk with increasing rapidity. Finally, the site came up. She keyed in her password, attached the file and was about to hit Send when more of Norwood’s words came back to her.
We believe the project has been compromised. We’re certain someone in the network has been leaking information, so we’re cautioning all of you to be extra careful.
Extra careful. A leak in the network.
Someone within her company could be giving away information. Drina shuddered. If her equations were correct and they slipped into the wrong hands, a weapon of phenomenal force could be developed. A pulse of that magnitude used on men instead of machines could destroy hearing and vision, not to mention what it might do to a human heart. Finger poised over the send button, Drina held her breath.
She would not—could not—let her work fall into the wrong hands. Thousands of lives would be lost and Drina had made it her life’s goal to save lives. It was the least she could do to atone for the death for which she felt responsible.
But could she trust her own network? Was the breach here, with someone on the base or within her own company?
Drina didn’t know. Couldn’t know. But someone did. Grabbing her cell phone, she looked up the number Norwood had given her in the briefing and dialed. The phone rang and rang. Finally, Norwood’s clear, strong voice came over the line.
“You’ve reached Cal Norwood. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”
Drina squeezed her eyes shut. Of course. It was past midnight. Like all normal human beings, the man was in bed...asleep. She didn’t want to repeat the mistake she made with Bill by revealing info over the phone so she left a message for Norwood to call her, then hung up.
She looked around at the shadows just beyond the feeble desk lamp. They felt almost alive, lurking, watching.
No way was she waiting for Norwood to call back. Deleting the email to Bill, she saved the attached file with a pass code and shut down her laptop. After grabbing her jacket off the back of the chair, she slid the laptop into her backpack, pulled out her keys and headed for the door of the small office.