Chapter 20

Meanwhile Back on Earth...

Jordan Cross sat in the back of his limo, watching the Manhattan skyline go by as he made his way to his Central Park penthouse.

'Tomorrow I shall rule supreme. Then the world shall tremble.' Jordan thought.

Benjamin sat in back with Jordan, his PDA clearly visible, ready to take notes or orders from his master.

"Benjamin, tonight we're going to Washington and tomorrow Project Leviathan comes to fruition." Jordan said.

"Yes sir. Our people are all in position, though it took a little longer getting all of the necessary personnel into positions in other countries. I was a little surprised that you included Canada, Central America and South America." Benjamin said with as must respect as possible in his tone.

"Yes, I know. But it needs to be done. The people will be better off for it and Americas will be stronger for it." Cross nodded sagely.

"Once they see the truth sir, they'll fall to their knees and worship you till the end of time." Benjamin said, with no hint of doubt in his voice.

"Did you wire the money yet?" Cross asked with a far away look in his eyes.

"Yes, it was done this morning. Thirty million to an account in Bogota, twenty million to the Nevis account and fifteen went to Munich. We received conformation about twenty minutes before we left." Benjamin said, consulting his PDA for the answers.

"Good, our Columbian friends will be pleased and will keep their side of the bargain. Once it's over and done with we can always retrieve the money at a later date. It's one thing to be in business with the Columbians, it's another thing to trust them at all." Cross stated.

"A wise move sir. Will you include the Mexican drug cartels in the 'clean-up'?" Benjamin approached the subject with a certain amount of caution.

Cross looked sharply at his personal secretary, glad that he brought up the very thing he was thinking about. Those drug cartels could be treacherous to deal with any day of the week and it was certainly a bad idea to turn your back on them even for an instance, unless you really wanted a meat cleaver jammed in it.

"Yeah, I'll want to make a clean sweep of them. No need leaving loose ends around, they only become a hindrance later on." Cross said, wiping a bit of lint off his Chino pants.

A beeping sound emanated from the PDA, alerting that a message was in the inbox. Benjamin open the simple text message, less then four lines long and was straight to the point, which took less than ten seconds to decode what the message really meant.

"Sir, it appears that our 'party favors' have arrived on schedule and are being set up even as we speak. All you need to do is give the signal and the party will begin." Benjamin stated, with just the hint of pleasure in his voice.

"Good. Call Marcus and have him begin what we discussed. He'll know what you're talking about." Cross said with the first hint of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Marcus LaMarx sat in his small, cramped apartment, furiously typing away at the keyboard of his computer. The sound of Disturbed rattled walls of his apartment, letting the potent music fuel his soul, his creativity, and push him to his limits. His phone rang, which was a rare occurrence, but didn't hear it. If it didn't light up like a damn fireworks display when it rang he wouldn't have known it rang. He muted his music, another rare occurrence in his building, and picked it up.

"Yeah?" He wasn't much for small talk.

"Mr. Cross says for you to begin." The voice on the other line said then it went dead.

He stared at the phone, not knowing what the hell that was about until it clicked. Jordan Cross hired him to do an almost impossible job. But for someone with Marcus's talents it was child's play. Cross paid for the best hardware for Marcus to use his 'talents' to do something that has never been done before. He slid the junk off his computer station and hooked up the special lab top. This thing of beauty cost more than a new Lexus. It had a killer Ethernet connection and most of the components going to be available on the open market for the next two years. He had prepared for this moment for over two years and was anxious to complete it. Hell, when all was said and done he'd be the 'number one hacker' on the entire planet. After the hard drive warmed up he started with number one on his to-do list.

Scholars speculate that the Internet could never collapse, considering how it was structured; it was designed to prevent itself from collapsing. Even if a terrorist attack occurred, striking computer relay points, it would never work. What if someone was smart enough and had the needed talent, not to destroy the Internet, but control the flow of information. Some would say that it would be impossible to, say, stop all forms of communication coming in and going out of the continental United States. Others would say that no on this Earth could establish a communications blackout through three separate continental masses. Well, they were proven wrong. At three thirty a.m. EST the Western Hemisphere went 'dark', as it were, for the first time in a hundred years. This was just the first indication that something was wrong.

Inside the Oval Office

Washington D.C.

Time: 6:32 a.m. EST

The President sat in his comfortable leather chair, a scowl creeping across his face after having been rudely awaken by his nervous looking aide. He was told that there was a national emergency and his presence was needed immediately.

"Alright boys, what the hell happened that would require my presence in my office at six thirty in the morning?" He sounded grumpy as he rubbed the graying stubble on his jawbone.

"Sir, the entire country is in a communications blackout. Something we've never seen the likes of before. Nothing we send seems to make it, not telephone, no fax, no Internet. Hell, we can't even get a signal to the satellites in orbit. We've tried Britain, France, Germany, even Spain, but nothing seems to reach its destination. It's like someone just blocked 'us' and left everyone else alone." Said an Air Force General.

The door to the Oval office burst open as a secretary came rushing in, her face flushed red from running.

"Mr. President, we just received a call from the Canadian Prime Minister's office. Apparently he wants to speak to you." The woman said between gasps for air.

Before he could respond another aide came rushing through the same door, claiming that the Mexican President was also on line two and wanted a word. After that three similar running aides came into the office claiming the other governments south of the boarder were calling, wanting a word or two with the President.

"Wait just a damn minute! I thought you said that there wasn't any telephone service, General? What do you make of that?" the president practically shouted pointing to his office phone as several lines blinked angrily.

"Um... it would appear that they are also in the same predicament as us. Also sir, I said never said we didn't have phone service, it's just that every time we try to reach anyone from across the pond nothing would happen. We didn't try locally though." The general squeaked out.

"Next time, tell me. I hate it when I look like a fucking moron." The president said heatedly.

A man in a dark suit, one that just scream government agent, walked into the room and informed everyone present that television broadcasts were still being receive throughout the region but nothing from the international networks was able to get through. Just as the president was about to curse his private phone rang, something that only happened when 'he' called. The President of the United States, leader of the free world, elected leader of a nation, suddenly looked like he was going to pass out or worse, run from the room screaming for his 'momma' again. He reached for the phone with a shaky hand then picked it up.

"h... Hee... Hello?" He barley whispered.

He stood stock still, his ear rooted to the receiver, face turning white as beads of sweat began popping out all over his body. He reached out unoccupied hand to steady himself. His replies were short, mostly 'yes, sir', 'no, sir' or 'I'm sorry sir'. As the line went dead he put the phone back in its cradle. He looked up at everyone in the room and told them to get out after he told his secretary to schedule an emergency meeting of the Congress. From the shocked looks their faces, they couldn't believe they had jus heard him give that order. In fact, they couldn't remember the last time any president called for an emergency meeting with congress.

Benjamin ended his call with the President while he began getting ready for today's events. He left his room and hurried to the elevator. Once the car arrived he slipped the keycard into the slot to go directly to the penthouse. When he got off he noticed the usual servants scurrying about. The penthouse suite was impressive, even though it was a Comfort Inn. As he entered the suite itself he quickly found his master being 'serviced' by one of the prettier serving girls. Over the years he had grown accustomed to such displays so he no longer thought anything of it.

"Sir, the call's been made. The preparations are being made as even as we speak." He said.

"Good, as soon as I'm done here order some breakfast from room service. It's going to be a bust day." Cross said and smacked the tight, naked ass that was pressed against him. The girl squealed in delight and continued on at a faster pace.

FBI Agent Philips walked down a nondescript hallway, passing numerous numbered doors with electronic locks. He finally came to the correct door and slipped his keycard into the slot. When it buzzed, he turned the handle and entered the small office. His partner was at his desk, sipping coffee from a white Styrofoam cup while he scribbled something down on a large yellow legal pad. Philips and his partner, Agent Chambers, were to desperate, to say the least. They have been trying to build a case against Jordan Cross for the last four years but every time they thought they had some evidence that would stick it would evaporate before they could even tag-and-bag-it. It was like watching one the old time great magicians perform a mind-boggling trick, one minute your eyes were glued on the big box that had swords run through it, the next second the 'assistant' sneaks out the trapdoor while everyone else is distracted. Cross is great at using misdirection, one minute they had a witness in custody, the next instant their head would disappear. That's why Philips called in an 'old friend', to help out with the case. A hacker who went way back with him to high school. Josh Sanders knocked on the door to the office and Phillips opened it. They shook hands and went through the usual pleasantries.

"Alright Rich, you wouldn't have called me unless you up shit creek without a paddle. So what's up?" Josh asked.

"Ok, to the point then. Josh, what I'm about to tell you can't leave this office. If it did the media would go into a feeding frenzy. Can you keep your mouth shut?" Richard Philips asked.

"Sure man, no problem, anything for a friend. So spill it already, I'm dying to know what this is about." Josh said eagerly.

"Brian and I have been trying to build a case against Jordan Cross. Do you know him?" Philips asked, receiving a nod. So he went on. "We have reason to believe that he has something big going on. With the sudden communications blackout, it just seem too coincidental, if you catch my drift."

"Yeah that sounds a little too neat for my comfort. Before you called I was looking into this blackout, trying to see if I could break through it or not. I gotta tell you, man, that fucking thing is unlike anything I've ever come across. I couldn't even find the source of the blackout; it seems like it was buried directly in the heart of the system and shifted throughout the network. It was like trying to grab a hand full of sand then trying to hold on to it." Josh said, with awe in his voice.

"So, you don't know if it's connected to Cross or not?" Chambers asked for the first time.

Josh hesitated for just a fraction of a second before he answered. "No, I don't know for sure. But this thing has triggered something in an old memory I have. It reminds me of a theory I heard in college from a classmate, brilliant fellow, a bit strange but brilliant. Some said his IQ was off the charts and he could do all sorts of things with a computer that even the professor couldn't understand. This guy, Marcus, had a superiority complex and was antisocial to boot. Never trusted the Professors because he thought they were jealous of his intellect, which was that main reason why he dropped out. Haven't heard from him in almost nine, maybe ten, years or so. His theory was that someone, given enough preparation and time, could take over and control the Internet. He also said that whoever could control the Internet would have unlimited power." Josh finished.