Page 61 of Clive Cussler Ghost Soldier
“Which means they bought it,” Linda said.
“The question is, from whom? The Russians? Or this Vendor menace? And if the latter, where did he acquire it from?”
“We think he’s more than a broker,” Juan said.
“How so?”
Juan gave him a rundown of the events over the last several hours, particularly the Vendor’s missile-torpedo attack on theOregonand the technological sophistication of the weapons. He also shared the consensus opinion that the Vendor was involved with some kind of network with access to advanced technology and automated manufacturing capabilities.
“That makes him both an arms broker and an arms maker,” Overholt said. “Brokering existing arms was bad enough. But if he’s also manufacturing them, especially advanced systems, then he is truly a strategic threat. I can’t urge you strongly enough. Find the Vendor and destroy his network as quickly as you can.”
“We’ve been trying. The man’s a ghost. So far, it’s all been a dead end.”
“Press on, my boy. If anyone can do it, it’s you and your team.”
“You know we don’t quit. Ever.”
“Indeed, I do. That’s why I gave you the assignment. Good hunting.”
31
Juan pushed through the steel door into Murphy’s darkly lit customized cabin, modeled after the hovercraftNebuchadnezzarfromThe Matrix, Murph’s all-time favorite movie.
Murph sat at one of theNebuchadnezzar’s control stations, tapping away at a keyboard, totally engrossed in his work. Callie and Eric hovered over his shoulders, equally enthralled.
They were surrounded by a dozen other monitors waterfalling the iconic matrix language as screen savers, all arranged just like the movie. Empty beef jerky wrappers and crushed Red Bull cans overflowed the trash bin near Murph’s station.
Juan fought back a sting of irritation, hoping he wasn’t being invited to a Fortnite championship round or some other nonsense they didn’t have time for. The soles of his boots clanged on the floor’s steel grates as he approached the trio absorbed in Murphy’s screen.
“You called for me?” Juan asked.
The three looked up, surprised by his entrance.
“You gotta see this, Chairman.” Murph waved him over with a hand.
Cabrillo strode to his station, noting the odors of stale sweat, Cheez-Its, and Axe body spray. It smelled like every men’s college dorm room Juan had ever been in. Murph’s and Eric’s clothes werewrinkled, their hair disheveled, and both men needed a shave, though with Murph that wasn’t so obvious.
Callie on the other hand was fresh as a daisy, like she’d just emerged from the water at Maui’s North Shore.
Cabrillo leaned over. “What am I looking at?”
“After we left the lab yesterday, Callie came by and started poking around the flight data recorder’s fried hard drive,” Eric began. “And what she found was this.” He tapped a key on Murph’s board. It displayed a piece of software code.
“And that is…?”
“It’s a fragment of a line of code pointing to the dark web,” Callie said.
“Why would the dark web be on the flight recorder?”
“Probably a link to a geolocation or some other kind of address for delivery,” she offered.
Juan nodded, intrigued. “The dark web is the perfect place to transact illegal business.”
“Buyingandselling,” Murphy added.
“Were you able to track down somebody with that snippet of code? An address for delivery?”
“No,” Murph said. “But it was enough to give us a few ideas.”
