Doug Peterson sipped his coffee without taking his eyes off Eduardo. "This isn't a corporate boardroom, Mr. Acerbi, and whatever decisions we make here today concerning our future actions will be backed up by our bosses. I can also tell you that this so-called cyber takeover of the world sounds a bit like bad science fiction to me." Peterson looked over at Gwyneth Hastings. "What about you, Gwyneth? Anything strange buzzing over at MI6 about a super computer we know nothing about?"

"No. We're constantly monitoring for new viruses and worms, and to date we've uncovered every new computer that's come out of the box. We have classified layers of security that are so effective and so secret that most computer security experts are unaware they even exist. We'd definitely know if there was some kind of monster computer out there that was capable of doing the kinds of things Mr. Acerbi just described."

"Are you sure about that, Ms. Hastings?" Acerbi asked.

"Absolutely. Some of the best hackers in the world make runs at us every day, and I'm not just talking about some smart college student with some time on his hands, but the brilliant, lone-wolf types who drop out of places like MIT to become legends in the geek world of computerdom. Not once have any of these computer superstars made it past even our first and most basic layer of security. Frankly Mr. Acerbi, what you've just described is impossible."

Danny Zamir slammed his fist down on the metal table with enough force to rattle dishes all the way to the other end. "Are you people kidding me? Israel is already experiencing a digital meltdown of biblical proportions, and the man who knows what's happening is sitting right in front of you. We can't afford to take this threat lightly, and if there's even a small chance Mr. Acerbi is telling us the truth, then we must act. This isn't exactly our first rodeo you know."

Clyde Richards, the husky Australian, sat down next to Zamir after retrieving second helpings of bacon from the chow line."I think we all realize this isn't your first rodeo, Danny boy, but how do you know this cyber attack wasn't just aimed at Israel? I mean, you people have enemies all around you who probably spend every waking moment of their lives trying to figure out how to break into your secure communications networks. If you're looking for a bad guy in all of this, I'd be looking at Iran after the cyber attack you conducted against them last year."

"Are you referring to operation Olympic Games?"

"Yes ... an operation you yourself were involved in, my friend. After the Times broke the story, it became almost a matter of public record that the United States and Israel were joined at the hip in developing a cyber weapon that destroyed thousands of Iran's uranium-enriching centrifuges in Natanz."

Shane Trent glared across the table at the big Australian. "Let me remind you that you're talking about a program that's still highly classified."

Zamir's face turned red. "Classified! Since when do you include members of the press in your security briefings at Fort Meade, Mr. Trent?"

"Now wait just a minute, Zamir! That never happened. The leaks about our joint cyber warfare program didn't come from us."

"He's right," Doug Peterson said. "We suspect they came from someone with contacts inside the White House. These kinds of leaks have been plaguing us for years now despite the best efforts of some very dedicated intelligence officers who are trying their damndest to protect our country from those who would like to see us wiped off the map. As far as I'm concerned, whoever leaked the details of operation Olympic Games to the press is guilty of high treason. I can guarantee you that if one of our people had been involved they'd be in jail right now. Think about it for a moment. We finally found a way to stall a hostile government from developing nuclear weapons without bombing the hell out of them, and then the liberal media can't wait to tell our enemies how we did it. For your information, there were three subs sitting on the floor of the Arabian Sea just waiting for orders to launch their missiles into Iran if the cyber attack didn't work, but because of the success of our cyber warfare program we were able to destroy the Iranian centrifuges without firing a single shot or harming a single living soul. So much for good intentions."

Zamir could see the CIA man's frustration building. "I know, Mr. Peterson. Two of those subs sitting on the floor of the ocean were ours. We're on the same side ... remember?"

Pope Michael continued sipping his coffee as he watched the intelligence people go at it. "Well, it seems to me that, since the genie is out of the bottle so to speak, maybe one of you would be so kind as to enlighten us about this cyber weapon of yours?"

"What for?" Trent asked. "I mean, with all due respect, Your Holiness, what good would that do?"

"Well, for one thing, Mr. Trent, I believe it may have some bearing on our current situation."

Peterson nodded his head. "Go ahead, Trent. I don't suppose it can hurt anything at this point."

"OK, boss ... if you say so." Trent's shoulders visibly slumped. "The code name for the project was Olympic Games, as you've already heard from Mr. Zamir. Several years ago, a few of our more talented computer engineers were working with some nuclear experts in an effort to come up with a way to stop the Iranians from developing a nuclear bomb without going to war. In the course of their discussions, they discovered that the computers running the highly temperamental centrifuges used by the Iranians to enrich uranium were especially vulnerable to a cyber attack. For one thing, the programmable logic controllers-the specialized computers that ran the machines, were virtually undefended. I mean, they didn't even have the basic anti-virus software most people use every day on their home computers. Also, the centrifuges the Iranians had purchased from the Pakistanis would routinely spin out of control and tear themselves apart, so they thought if they could engineer a computer worm that would cause them to self-destruct on a regular basis, it wouldn't necessarily tip the Iranians off to the fact that their computers had been sabotaged. But there was a problem. Even though the controllers were undefended, they were surrounded by an air gap, meaning they weren't hooked up to the internet, which probably accounts for their lack of security. That's when our friends in Israel became involved. We needed Mr. Zamir's intelligence assets in Iran to somehow physically access the controllers inside the plant.

"Working together, we developed a bit of computer code known as a beacon. Essentially, this beacon would map the operations inside the Iranian facility and report back to NSA headquarters with a description of how the plant operated. But we still had to figure out a way to get the beacon into the logic controllers. We finally hit on the idea of using Iran's own scientists who routinely carried their laptops home with them and then back to work the next day where they plugged them into the computer network inside the facility. An agent inside Iran simply waited until one of the nuclear scientists left his apartment and inserted the beacon code into his laptop using a thumb drive. When he went to work the next day and plugged it in ... voila! We were in. Pretty soon we knew more about the crown jewel of the Iranian nuclear program than the Iranians did.

"After that, some of the most brilliant computer guys working at the NSA and the CIA were drafted and transferred over to the new U.S. Cyber Command where they quickly went to work writing code for one of the most sophisticated and elegant worms ever developed. For security reasons, they never gave it a name. Usually only computer geeks who want to tout their work to other geeks do that, but the press dubbed it Stuxnet, an amalgam of some of the key words in the software code that had no real meaning. After some trial runs on some identical controllers and centrifuges purchased by the United States, the worm was smuggled into the computer network inside Natanz using the same method we used to insert the beacon ... and there it sat, just waiting.

"When all was ready Stuxnet finally struck and the Iranian centrifuges began spinning out of control. Now comes the good part. Our guys had thought to add a bit of code that made the Iranian's believe everything was working perfectly. There was no warning-no bells or whistles sounded to let the Iranians know that something was wrong. I mean, they just sat there in their control room, blissfully unaware that over a thousand of their centrifuges were tearing themselves apart in a metallic whirlwind. They didn't have time to shut them down because there was no warning. It was beautiful!"

Trent smiled at the thought of all the Iranian centrifuges spinning wildly out of control. "I don't know if anyone else in this room can appreciate what I've just said, but the historical significance of this cyber attack is truly mind-boggling. All previous cyber attacks had always been against other computers, but this was the first time in history in which a cyber attack was used to cause actual physical destruction. It was brilliant. We destroyed a large portion of a uranium enrichment facility belonging to an enemy state ... one that had threatened to wipe Israel off the map, and we did it without ever firing a shot. We set their nuclear program back at least two years, and the world is a safer place because of it."

Eduardo's hands trembled uncontrollably in his lap as he glanced over at Pope Michael. "What did I tell you, Marcus? If these people can develop something as elegant and sophisticated as Stuxnet, then surely someone who had the power of the universe at his disposal would have no problem in developing something infinitely more powerful."

The look of pride on Trent's face slowly began to fade. "He? I'm afraid I'm not following you, Acerbi. Are you saying you can put a name behind this so-called monster computer?"

Eduardo's eyes looked hollow as he stared back at Trent without answering.

"Mr. Acerbi, if you or anyone in your party is holding back information about this cyber attack, then we need to know about it ... and we need to know about it right now. There's a definite time factor in stopping a worm, especially if it has the global implications you mentioned earlier."

"Thank you, Mr. Trent," Eduardo finally said. "You've finally heard what we have come here to tell you. Earlier, you all wanted to know what Pope Michael and I-two men who don't fit your criteria for sharing classified material, could possibly offer you in the way of valuable information that might well preserve your way of life. You postured and boasted of how successful you were at protecting your secrets, but up until this moment not one of you has asked the right question."

"And just what question would that be, Mr. Acerbi?" Peterson asked.

"The source, my friends ... the source. You're about to be hit by a computer worm powered by a computer the likes of which the world has never seen before ... a worm that will set us all back to the Stone Age, and not one of you has asked where your destroyer will come from."

CHAPTER 25.

The mess hall cook laid the last trays of freshly-baked pound cake on the counter and wiped the sweat from his forehead with a dish towel before peering through a small round window in one of the metal kitchen doors. Although he couldn't hear what was being said, he could see the two Israeli security men standing just beyond the doors, and thirty feet away, sitting around the long table, were his targets. Glancing around to make sure he was still alone in the kitchen, the cook was finally free to reveal his latest creation.

Arching his stiff back, he looked around one more time before walking back into a small break room behind the walk-in cooler. Taking time to exhale slowly, he stood in front of his locker for a moment before opening the thin metal door and pulling out a small nylon backpack. He could feel his heart pounding as he walked back into the kitchen and carefully placed the backpack on the counter before removing the safety tape from a thin metal wire that extended from a small hole in the side.

Now, as he had been trained to do, he closed his eyes and ran through a mental checklist, repeating the steps to himself before taking another deep breath and opening his eyes. With his decision made, he could feel the tension slowly fade from his body. It felt as though he were watching events rather than participating in them. After all, what did he really have to be afraid of? Wasn't he about to enter the glorious afterlife that had been promised to him by the men who had given him the backpack? They had assured him that he wouldn't feel any pain, for there was enough C4 explosive inside the compact nylon bag to shatter his nerve endings before the chemically induced signal ever reached his brain to alert him to the fact that he had just died. He would never feel the hundreds of metal ball bearings inside that would tear his body apart before they found their true targets-the group of people seated at the long metal table.

Without hesitating, the cook reached out and grabbed the backpack by one of the straps while holding the end of the wire with his free hand. He then peered through the window in the door one more time to make sure the people at the table were still together. Now, the only barriers that lay between him and his intended targets were the swinging metal doors and the two Israeli security men who would soon be vaporized after he entered the mess hall and pulled the wire that would send him to heaven and everyone else to hell.

"Freeze!"

The startled cook swung around to see a man crouched in the classic handgun combat position with a Glock pistol aimed right at his midsection. It was Graham Childs, and he was well aware that at this distance and in this enclosed space, the explosion would rip both of them apart. Without waiting, he raised the Glock slightly until the white-outlined sights were lined up with the center of the cook's forehead. Both men stared at one another, each weighing his options-watching for the blink of an eye or the twitch of a finger. The cook's grip on the thin metal wire tightened.

"I said freeze!"

Hearing Childs' shouts, the security men peered through the windows in the kitchen doors and instantly saw what was happening. "Run!" they shouted to the group seated around the table. Beads of sweat were beginning to form across Childs' forehead as he kept his aim steady on the forehead of the cook. He knew the men on the other side of the door had already shouted out a warning, and he needed to gain only a few more seconds to allow them to hustle everyone into the stairwell behind the solid concrete wall.

But time had run out. The cook spun on his heels and hurled himself against the swinging doors just as Childs fired two quick shots before dropping behind a row of steel ovens. Two holes sprang from the back of the cook's head as his already dead body dropped straight to the floor, but in his death throes his twitching hand had somehow managed to pull the wire.

The massive explosion rocked the kitchen, turning the metal doors into deadly, spinning blades that flew over the steam table and into the mess hall before slicing through the two security men who had bravely warned the others. The tiny metal ball bearings that followed shot in all directions faster than the speed of sound, ripping through walls, chairs, and tables in a circular pattern as the fiery explosion roared through the enclosed space, setting everything ablaze in an inferno that began to melt anything that wasn't made from steel or concrete.

Despite the fact that he was sitting with some of the best trained men and women in the world, it was John who had been the first to react to the security men's shouts. Grabbing Ariella, he had flung her toward the stairwell just as Alon jerked both Eduardo Acerbi and Pope Michael from their chairs and pushed them ahead of him as everyone ran for the stairs.

After the deafening first effects of the explosion had been felt, those who had made it into the safety of the stairwell lay crowded together on the stairs behind a thick concrete wall that had just saved their lives. Looking out into the smoky darkness, they could see small fires blazing in what remained of the mess hall-and there were bodies.

Coughing in the acrid smoke, the blackened face of Graham Childs suddenly appeared at the foot of the stairs, startling the already shocked survivors. In one hand he held the Glock pistol, while the other hung down at his side, dripping blood. Miraculously he had survived when he had ducked behind a row of heavy steel ovens just before the cook triggered the explosion.

"The emergency lights should be coming on at any moment," he said, his voice raspy from the smoke. "Stay where you are until we check the rooms upstairs. There could be more bombs."

As Childs was making his way up the stairs past the people huddled in the stairwell, the emergency lights flickered on, allowing everyone to see who had made it out alive and who had not. Lev Wasserman had been the last man to make it behind the concrete wall, but behind him six bodies could be seen smoldering in the tangled mass of twisted metal and wires that hung down from the ceiling.

Besides the bomber and the two security men, they could see the top half of Clyde Richards' hulking figure extending from under a bent portion of the metal table, while the bodies of Carl Smith and Daaruk Khadri lay bleeding against the far wall.

Lev turned his head away and coughed in the thickening smoke. "We can't stay in this stairwell any longer. It's starting to draw all the smoke upward like a chimney!"

Moving quickly, the remaining survivors made their way to the top of the stairs and stumbled into the reception room just as a group of soldiers with fire extinguishers rushed down into the smoke-filled stairwell. In the hallway outside, a team of British Special Forces soldiers had just arrived, their eyes wide with the adrenaline rush of suddenly being thrust into a defensive combat posture.

"How in the world did someone manage to sneak a bomb inside a secure facility like this?" Lev wheezed.

"Had to be an inside job," Alon said, "which means there might be others. We need to get out of here."

"I agree," Childs said, wincing as he held his injured arm. "Follow me."

"Why don't you let me take a look at that arm first?" Ariella asked.

Childs held back but Ariella persisted. "Come on, I was a medic in the Israeli Army, and I don't want the man who just saved our lives dying from loss of blood."

OK ... just a quick look, Miss. Then we really need to go."

Childs winced again as she slowly turned his arm. Something had obviously pierced the bicep just above the elbow and had exited the other side.

"Well, whatever hit you is no longer there, but we need to stop the flow of blood." Spotting a soldier with a first aid kit, Ariella motioned him over and grabbed a gauze bandage that she used to stem the flow of blood from Childs wound. "There, that should hold you until your little train can get us out of here."

"I'm afraid the train's out of commission, Miss," the soldier behind her said. "Someone blew the engine and the tracks, and ...

"And what?"

"They shot the two Israeli security men outside the door."

Like a raging bull, Alon burst through the doors and stared down at the lifeless forms of the two Israelis. "Did any of your men see anything?"

"They're looking at all the cameras now, sir," the soldier replied. "Best to stay put until we know who we're looking for. The dogs are sniffing for more explosives."

Alon ran back inside the reception room and motioned to the group. "This looks like a coordinated attack. We have to go ... now!"

Suddenly, the walls around them shook as a second explosion rocked the tunnel outside.

"Is there another way out of here besides the main tunnel?" Zamir shouted.

"Yes, sir," Childs said. "There's a small ventilation and maintenance tunnel off to the side of the platform outside, but it's filled with pipes and wires ... it's pretty tight."

"OK. I'm staying here to coordinate things with the British military, but you and Alon have to get these other people out of here right now. I'll ask the British commander to send a couple of his best soldiers with you. Where does that tunnel lead?"

"Saint Michael's Cave ... right below us. It ends about 300 meters above the sea. There's a machine room before you reach the large cavern they call the cathedral room. From there we can make our way out through the main entrance."

Everyone saw the look of determination spreading across Pope Michael's face. "Saint Michael's Cave ... sounds perfect. Let's go."

CHAPTER 26.

At the palace in Babylon, Adrian Acerbi paced the marble floors in his room before sitting down in front of his computer. He had spent the last two days thinking of ways to escape his guards, but so far all of his attempts to leave the palace had been thwarted by the overwhelming security presence.

The sound of keys rattling in his door startled him, and as he spun in his chair, two security men entered without knocking and stood aside as his mother swooped into the room with an angry expression on her face. Ever since their trip to Turkey, she had become distant to the point of outward hostility, and as she approached his desk, Adrian turned away, refusing to acknowledge her presence.

"Adrian, my dear, they tell me you haven't touched a bite of food since yesterday. Come, you must eat."

"I'll eat when you stop treating me like a prisoner and let me go see my father!"

"Please, Adrian ... be reasonable." Colette threw up her hands. "I want to see your father as much as you do, but he has forbidden it. These attempts of yours to slip past your guards are absurd. Everything we do is for your own good. We simply can't have you traipsing all over Iraq looking for ways to travel to Paris all by yourself. Anyway, we've received word that your father has checked himself out of the hospital and no one's heard from him since."

"Checked himself out of the hospital? Where is he?"

"Obviously you weren't listening. I said no one's heard from him since. I have no idea where he is. Apparently he left the hospital against doctor's orders. No one even saw him leave."

"Then he must be doing better. Why hasn't he called?"

"I don't know, my son. Your father is a complicated man ... he's disappeared before in the past, you know."

"But he would never leave us ... I know it!"

"I'm sure there's some logical explanation, Adrian, but you can't spend your days wasting away in your room. I have a surprise for you. We're taking a trip."

"A trip? To France?"

"No, my dear. To Turkey."

Adrian's expression collapsed. "You mean back to those old ruins?"

"Yes. There's something there I want you to see."

"But why not go to Paris instead? Once we're there father is sure to contact us, and ... Adrian jumped back when he saw his mother's body suddenly blur in a hazy jumble of undefined edges. It was like looking at a television image that had suddenly frozen before restarting again at a different scene. Rubbing his eyes, he tried to pretend he hadn't seen it as he looked closer.

Suddenly her image blurred again, but this time there was something there-something else inside the undefined outline-and it wasn't his mother. The image wavered back and forth as if it were unsure of what world it existed in or what form it should take, and for a split second Adrian thought he could see a monstrous, twisted face contorted with rage, until finally the fleeting image once again stabilized into the more comforting reflection of the thing that had once been his mother.

Adrian recoiled in horror. "I'm not going anywhere with you. I don't know what you are, but you're not my mother!"

Colette turned to the two guards. "Take him. Tie him up if you have to, but I want him out front and inside my car in ten minutes. We're going to the airport in Bagdad."

CHAPTER 27.