The Curse of Medusa

Revelling in his new-found fame, Kiefel continued to strut up and down before the camera. “Your leaders have deceived you. They know ancient truths about your world that would shock you to your core, but they have kept them from you. Now, you will see a small part of the fabric of their lies and deceit come undone before your very eyes! You will see the light of reality and truth as it shines through from the ancient past and brightens the darkness you have been kept in.”

Kiefel clicked his fingers and a tall, muscular man dragged a smaller, older man in a suit in front of the screen.

“My God!” Anderson said. “That’s Dirk Partridge, one of the President’s closest Secret Service agents!”

“Who’s the ape hauling him across the room?” Kim asked.

“According to our facial recognition software, his name’s Jakob Müller, a burned out gymnast from another age, now a small-time thug from Leipzig.”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Hawke said.

“Me too,” Alex whispered, moving closer to Hawke and putting a hand on his arm.

On the plasma screen, Kiefel smiled and continued. “This is United States Secret Service Agent Dirk Partridge. Shortly he will have the honor of dying for his country in the most ancient and wonderful of ways, and I would be honored if you join us for that.”

Kiefel directed an insane grin at the camera and then the screen flicked to static.

“God damn it!” Brooke boomed. “Can’t anyone shut this madman down?”

“We’re working on it, sir,” said one of his staffers. “But right now we can’t even find his location.”

“So shut down the internet!”

The staffer looked at him. “We can’t do that, sir, not since the Cybersecurity Act of 2009.”

Brooke said nothing for a moment, looking up at Kimble’s face on the plasma screen across the room. Since Hawke had told him about the new President’s reaction when he’d learned about Watkins’s death back at the Smithsonian, Brooke had begun to harbor certain suspicions about his new Commander-in-Chief, but now wasn’t the time to indulge in conspiracy theories or let his mind wander off-track.

Brooke looked from the President to the staffer. “That’s just not true, son…”

Kimble looked at Anderson, equally shocked. Brooke considered that being in the Top Job for less than a few hours meant that Teddy Kimble probably knew a lot less about these things than your average conspiracy theorist.

“What are you talking about, Mr Secretary?” President Kimble said.

Anderson spoke up. “He’s talking about the Kill Switch, sir.”

“The what?”

“It’s a cybercrime countermeasure, sir,” Anderson said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“Would someone tell me just what the hell we’re talking about?” Kimble said.

Brooke sighed. “Everyone below codeword clearance please leave the room… except you three.” He pointed at Alex, Hawke and Kim Taylor. “You ain’t going anywhere. I need you.”

When the room was clear, Brooke cleared his throat and walked out from behind his desk. “We’re talking about the Kill Switch, Mr President. You won’t have been briefed on it yet, of course. Its existence has been rumored a lot, I know… and there is even some kind of an accommodation for it in the Protecting Cyberspace as a National Asset Act of 2010, but…”

“Wait a minute,” Kimble said, confused. “That Act expired years ago.”

Anderson and Brooke exchanged a glance.

Anderson spoke first. “It did, sir, and it didn’t.”

Hawke listened with interest as Kimble reacted. “And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means, Mr President,” Brooke said, “that parts of the Act were taken on and… initiated.”

“It means,” Anderson continued, “that there is a Kill Switch in place, even though its use would be highly questionable in law, not to mention the outrage it would cause.”

“But I strongly recommend you order its use right now, Mr President,” Brooke said firmly. “We don’t know what Kiefel is planning on doing, sir, but it might be in our interests to control the situation better than this, if you get my meaning… He can talk all he likes but something tells me things might start to get a little more graphic.”

Kimble looked at Anderson and considered what he had been told.

“And how does this thing work?” he asked.

“You order me to kill the internet, and I’ll make it happen.”

“How fast?”

“Not long — an hour or so. It’s a technical operation.”

Kimble furrowed his brow with the stress of indecision. “I’m not sure about the Constitutional implications here, Jack. This is a civil liberties issue, you realize. The President can’t be seen to be taking over the internet and policing freedom of expression like this.”

“You can’t be serious?” Brooke said. “We’re not talking about freedom of expression, sir. This maniac could start killing people on live TV any moment!”

Kimble and Anderson shared a glance. “Leave it with me, Jack. I’ll get back to you.”

The screen went black and Brooke slammed his fist into the desk a second time. “Damn it!”

“Maybe he has a point, Dad,” Alex said. “The Government shouldn’t be controlling the internet.”