Chapter 82: The Weapons Satellite
"You pulled me out of school to tell me you're infiltrating Atari," Simon said. "The video game company."
"We believe Farook's target is their CEO," Casey said. "A man named Mori Tanaka."
"Tanaka," Simon said. "Japanese name. What's his background?"
"Former JSDF. Weapons systems division. He designed a first-generation weapons satellite that was launched in 1998." Casey set a photograph on the table.
"It's still up there," Sarah said. "Currently dormant. Still operational."
"NSA's had eyes on him for years. Farook's presence was confirmed in Tanaka's office building an hour ago."
Chuck raised a hand. "I have a plan."
Everyone looked at him.
"We send a virus to Atari's systems, then go in as Nerd Herd service technicians. Software company, computer problem, we get access. Simple."
Simon looked at him. "You know what a software company has more of than anything else?"
Chuck blinked.
"Software engineers," Simon said. "Dozens of them. In-house. Who would look at two Buy More employees walking through their door to fix a computer problem and have approximately fifteen questions."
The room was quiet for a moment.
"I can't believe I didn't think of that," Chuck said.
Casey looked at Simon. "Your alternative?"
Simon glanced at Sarah. "Same basic approach. Different cover. Instead of technicians, we send someone who's going to get through the front door based on a different asset entirely."
The three of them looked at Sarah.
Sarah understood immediately. "Give me five minutes to change."
They drove two Nerd Herd vehicles to the building — a glass-fronted tower in Burbank with Atari's logo on the lobby directory.
Sarah came out of the van in a outfit that had nothing to do with computer repair and everything to do with the demographic she was about to walk through.
"Walker," Simon said into his earpiece. "You're on."
"Copy."
Simon watched her cross the plaza. Software companies had a well-documented staff composition, and the specific kind of distraction Sarah represented was reliable in those environments. The cover didn't require explanation — it generated its own.
She was inside in under two minutes.
"We move now," Casey said. "Simon, you stay with the vehicles."
Simon didn't argue. He understood the reasoning — Tanaka's building would have cameras, and Simon's face ending up in someone's security footage was a liability that grew worse the more operational his profile became. Staying outside kept him clean.
And if something went badly wrong, having someone capable outside was better than having Chuck outside.
He settled in and monitored the comms.
Twelve minutes in, the fire alarm went off.
The building's ground-floor exits opened and the standard evacuation began — employees streaming out in the organized but faintly annoyed way of people who believed this was almost certainly a drill.
"See?" Sarah said from the passenger seat, having returned to the van at the first alarm. She was pulling her hair back into a practical arrangement. "They're fine. Have faith."
The explosion hit the top floor.
A fireball, contained but visible, and an office chair that cleared the building's facade and landed in fragments on the plaza in front of their vehicle.
Simon and Sarah looked at the chair.
Then at each other.
"They're alive," Sarah said, watching Casey and Chuck emerge from the building's side exit at a pace that was faster than casual but slower than running. "That's the baseline."
"It is," Simon agreed.
The debrief was in the briefing room forty minutes later.
Casey delivered the summary with the professional flatness of someone reporting facts he would have preferred to be different. Farook had obtained the access code to Tanaka's satellite. Tanaka was dead.
"The mission objective was met," Beckman said, from the screen. "The Intersect confirmed the connection and the threat. What we do with it now is the next problem."
She leaned forward. "Casey. Vandenberg has been notified. The 30th Space Wing is preparing an intercept option."
"You're planning to shoot it down with a missile," Sarah said.
"The satellite will pass over California in four hours. Best case, we destroy it before its own weapons systems activate. Debris will cause some civilian casualties. That number is considered acceptable."
"What's the worst case?" Chuck said.
"We miss," Beckman said.
Chuck sat up. "What if we didn't have to do either? Tanaka told me something before — the satellite has a manual override. There's an access code embedded in one of his arcade games. The Missile Command cabinet in his office. If someone completes the game, the code displays."
"You want to play a video game to stop a weapons satellite," Casey said.
"I want to win a video game to stop a weapons satellite," Chuck said. "There's a distinction."
"The only person who can reliably complete it—" Simon said.
"Has a compromised Intersect, yes, I know," Chuck said. "Thank you for that."
"I was going to say has four hours to practice," Simon said.
"Oh." Chuck paused. "That's more supportive than I expected."
"The direct intercept option remains on the table regardless," Beckman said. "Chuck, pursue the code. Casey, coordinate with the Air Force. Both tracks run simultaneously. Dismissed."
The screen went dark.
Casey looked at the group. "Bartowski. You have four hours. I'd suggest starting immediately."
"There's one more problem," Simon said.
Everyone looked at him.
"The code gets us control of the satellite," Simon said. "But Farook already has the activation sequence. Even if Chuck shuts it down, Farook can just activate it again — unless we find him first and take the sequence away from him." He paused. "The question is where he is."
"We have no current location," Sarah said.
Simon smiled slightly. "I might."
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