“Shit!” Jeremy yelled into the phone. There was a slight pause followed by a more calm tone of voice. “Did you terminate it?”

“Yes, of course. What else could I do?” Iqbal stammered.

“Good, do a system check. I’ll be right there.” Jeremy said and abruptly hung up.

As Iqbal put the receiver back in the cradle his eyes reflected the sickly green glow coming from the computer screen. He was still badly shaken over the unexpected re-activation. Typing furiously on the keyboard he began to check the system for other irregularities. Finally the check was complete and the computer belched out strings of diagnostic data. Iqbal scanned the results and could not find any evidence of other unauthorized activity.

While he was waiting for Jeremy to arrive, Iqbal felt a very strong urge to piss and made his way to a crude and filthy toilet in the corner of the room. He leaned on the wall with one hand and was letting nature take its course when he heard footsteps coming down the stone steps. He knew it was Jeremy Brown, leader and co-conspirator of the Q.E.D. Syndicate.

Jeremy walked into the darkened computer room shedding his black leather jacket, hat and goggles onto a crudely fashioned chair. The computer screen illuminated the room with an eerie green glow that gave Jeremy’s narrow face a demonic cast. Approaching the computer terminal he caught a glimpse of Iqbal zipping up his pants.

After wiping his hands on a grimy towel hanging by the toilet, Iqbal approached Jeremy at the computer terminal.

“As you can see the system check came back normal.” Iqbal said while Jeremy scanned the computer terminal.

“Yes, so it seems. Have you checked the satellite logs Iqbal?” Jeremy said, raising his left eyebrow in question.

“No, not yet…let me bring that up for you.” Replied Iqbal as he assumed control of the terminal and struck several keys to bring up the logs.

The satellite logs displayed all incoming and outgoing transmissions on their frequency network. Jeremy and Iqbal pinpointed the anomalous signal received from 1537-alpha and enabled the auto tracking option on the program. Iqbal pressed enter and the program instantly triangulated the source of the errant transmission. Jeremy frowned slightly as the result was displayed: Latitude 33 degrees 12 “10’ by Longitude 117 degrees 24” 43’ = Oceanside, California USA.

“1537-alpha should be at the bottom of the Pacific, not in Oceanside California.” Jeremy said with a furrow appearing on his brow. “There is only one explanation for this anomaly…someone has discovered our secret.”

Iqbal’s face dropped and he began to ramble. “Jeremy what are we going to do? They have discovered the cyberphages! What if they figure out how to disable our controls? Oh, Allah help us we are doomed!”

Jeremy violently grabbed Iqbal by the front of his wrinkled shirt, shaking him back and forth. “Just because they have discovered the phages doesn’t mean a damn thing! They don’t know where we are, where we will strike next or how the phages work.” Jeremy raved as spittle flew from his mouth. “There is only one course of action now…we strike again like a rabid dog!”

Releasing Iqbal from his grip, Jeremy regained some of his composure and straightened the wrinkled shirt a bit. “Iqbal, we must call a syndicate meeting immediately. Contact the others and arrange a gathering…lets say 2:00 this afternoon at the warehouse.” He calmly ordered. Jeremy donned his leather, grabbed his goggles and disappeared into the night like a phantom. Iqbal was dazed from Jeremy’s rage and barely noticed his absence. As he sat slumped in front of the computer terminal, Iqbal realized just how tired he really was and decided to go back to bed.

The absolute blackness of the desert night enveloped Jeremy as he drove down a rough and broken road toward his hideaway. Night made him comfortable because it concealed his activities from prying eyes. His only worry was the occasional rogue rebel patrol, but his trusty AKM and stash of grenades behind the jeep’s seat was good insurance in case of attack.

As he rounded a sharp turn over a rocky ridge, the jeep’s headlights illuminated the gray lump of a bunker he called home. Parking inside the makeshift garage, Jeremy stripped off his leather and made his way to the main room. A comfortable but worn tweed couch beckoned and Jeremy laid down on it. He lay awake for several hours plotting the syndicate’s next move.

Eventually Jeremy was overcome by sleep and he fell into a restless nightmare. The couch had transformed into a giant hand that was trying to crush the life from his body. Jeremy resisted with all his might and tried to escape, but his limbs were in slow motion and had no strength. The fingers were tightening, forming a fist with Jeremy trapped inside.

End Part 12