that can observe both northern and southern skies. It’s pretty impressive. Trouble is the earth keeps turning, so it can only study a piece of sky for a few hours at a time. A space telescope like Hubble can lock onto a distant object and keep it in its sights for months, years even, while the earth turns beneath it.’
‘And that costs forty million a year?’
‘It’s a very complicated process.’
Franklin grunted. ‘Sounds like a scam to me.’
Shepherd considered letting it go but didn’t want to slip back into the uneasy silence. ‘How good a shot are you?’ he asked.
‘Better than you, Special Agent.’
‘You think you could hit a tin can on the side of the road from a moving car?’
‘Depends how fast the car is going.’
‘Say it’s doing thirty.’
‘Nine times out of ten.’
‘What if the car was doing eighty-five?’
Franklin considered. ‘Maybe three out of ten.’
‘OK, now imagine the car is doing eighty-five thousand miles an hour and the tin can is on the other side of the country, perched on top of the Hollywood sign. Think you could hit it then?’ Franklin didn’t reply. ‘Hubble could. It could lock onto that can and take a picture of it so steady you could read the label. It’s orbiting the earth at around seventeen thousand miles an hour, and the earth is orbiting the sun at sixty-seven thousand miles an hour. That’s a total of eighty-four thousand miles an hour and yet Hubble can still fix onto a tiny patch of sky nearly fifteen billion light years away. It’s one of the greatest miracles of modern technology, the pinnacle of man’s achievements in science. That’s why it cost so much and needs all that money to run it.’
‘And all of that is controlled out of Goddard?’
‘Yes.’
Franklin shook his head. ‘Not any more – right now your gold-plated telescope couldn’t hit a barn door with a banjo. It’s spinning around up there like a bottle at a frat party. Someone managed to upload a virus that knocked out the guidance system and shut down all communication.’
‘Really? That would be – very difficult.’
‘How difficult?’
‘When I was working at Goddard they had a small systems security scare. One of the ground operating stations for another satellite was left wide open via an email account and some kid hacked into it. He didn’t do any damage but some of the ops systems got infected with internet junk that flowed in through the hole he’d made. It was picked up pretty quick and fixed but it prompted a review of the whole system. How much do you know about government cyber security?’
‘About as much as you know about firing guns.’
‘OK, so all state owned and operated computer operating systems are rated according to the Orange Book scale drawn up by the Department of Defense. This lays out specific security criteria for all government systems ranging from a D grade for non-sensitive, clerical stuff all the way up to beyond A1 for things like the NSA, the FBI and the military systems that launch the nukes. Following the scare at Goddard all the operating systems had to be upgraded to at least an A1. That means the prospect of Hubble’s ground-based operating system being breached by any kind of regular cyber attack is extremely unlikely. It would be like a junkie with a twenty-dollar pistol knocking off Fort Knox. Whoever did this must have known exactly what they were doing.’
‘You think it’s an inside job?’
‘Has to be. We should talk to Dr Kinderman, he’s in charge of Hubble and helped redesign the new system. He’ll be able to give us the names of everyone with the right kind of technical knowledge and any ex-employees who might have an axe to grind.’
‘Good thinking, Agent Shepherd,’ Franklin said, ‘only problem with your otherwise flawless plan of investigation is that Dr Kinderman is AWOL. Right now he is our number one suspect.’
EIGHT MONTHS EARLIER
Badiyat Al-Sham – Syrian Desert
Northwestern Iraq
When Gabriel Mann pointed the horse towards the horizon his only wish was to get as far from the compound as possible before he died.
He headed northwest, into the empty heart of the desert, with the heat of the rising sun on his shoulder and the scent of oranges strong in his nostrils. He tried not to think about all he was leaving behind because it only made it harder for him to go, and that was what he had to do – he had to leave her.
Instead, he tried to focus only on staying alive long enough to be far, far away when the disease took him. He didn’t want to risk infecting others or falling where circling buzzards might draw human scavengers who would steal his clothes and weapons and risk carrying away something far more deadly. He needed to die where no one would ever find him, somewhere the desert sun could dry and purify his flesh and the wind could scatter his dust over the sterile ground where nothing grew and everything perished and was forgotten.
He travelled for nearly four hours before the fever struck. The heat had been building for some time, though it was hard to tell how much of it was coming from the sun and how much from him. He was in the scant shade of a low, dry wadi, keeping the hot wind away from his horse, when his skin started to prickle as if biting insects were suddenly swarming all over him. At the same time a sensation welled up inside him like a feeling of uncontrollable grief. Despite his efforts to put her from his mind he had been thinking about Liv, picturing her face, the green of her eyes and how her hair had spread bright and golden over the pillow the last time he had seen her, sleeping in the sick bay. This sadness of leaving her, fuelled by the fever, now spilled out of him and tears rolled through the dry dust on his cheeks. He raised a shaking hand to wipe his face and it came away bloody.
A blight – the monk from the Citadel had called it – a strong smell of oranges followed by a sudden and violent nosebleed.
It’s over, he thought, with something close to relief. Now I can lie down.
He steered his horse to an overhang that formed a small oasis of shadow amid the blinding white. This was it, the place his whole life had been heading towards, this dark nook that looked like a vertical grave.
This was where he would die.
Liv spent most of the first day hiding at the top of one of the compound’s empty guard towers, keeping to the shadows, out of the heat.
She had woken in the sick bay to find Gabriel gone and an unsteady peace rippling through the camp. She found the note he had left for her, trapped beneath the tablet of stone known as the Starmap.
My darling Liv,
Nothing is easy, but leaving you is the hardest thing I have ever done. I know now what pain my father must have felt when he had to leave. I hope to return when I can. In the meantime, do not look for me, just know that I love you. And keep yourself safe – until I find you again.
Gabriel
She clutched the note in her hand now, as though it were a spell that might summon him back to her. Her attention shifted between the vast emptiness of the Syrian desert and the fenced-in drilling compound below where arguments flared