Wired - Douglas E. Richards [107]
Kira opened her mouth to argue but thought better of it. She had been in charge, and alone, for far too long. The reason she had wanted to team up with Desh in the first place was to get help. With a slight smile she realized she should let herself enjoy not making all the decisions for a change. She walked to the back of the RV and for once played the role of the damsel, taking a position behind and to the left of the war-hardened major.
“Major,” Desh called out.
Metzger caught his eye from thirty feet away.
“If he shows any suspicious behavior whatsoever, shoot him in the leg immediately. No hesitation. Don’t forget that he’ll be much faster than we are, mentally and physically.”
Metzger nodded.
The group took consolation from the fact that in addition to being bound, Griffin was slow and untrained, so that even if the transformation tripled his speed they should be able to handle him. Should be. No one was in a hurry to test this theory.
Griffin began navigating the web so he would be poised at the entrance to the NSA’s system when the mental transformation took effect. He didn’t have to wait long. “Holy crap!” he yelled the instant it did. He continued speaking after this but at a rate too fast for the rest of the group to decipher.
Griffin turned back to the keyboard and his fingers flew over it like those of a possessed concert pianist, filling all three monitors with an ever-changing parade of menus, data, and web pages. He had worked too fast for most people to have any hope of following before he was enhanced, but now his speed was off the charts. He continued working at a dizzying pace for twenty minutes while Desh and Metzger kept their weapons carefully trained on him.
“Matt, how is it looking?” said Desh finally. “Can you do it?”
Griffin snapped an unintelligible response.
“We can’t understand you,” said Desh.
“Can’t-operate-at-your-pathetic-speed-so-leave-me-the-hell-alone,” blurted out Griffin harshly, having slowed just enough that Desh could separate the words.
“Divert a portion of your mind to act as a slow version of yourself,” instructed Desh. “Less frustrating speaking with normals that way.”
“Done,” said Griffin.
“How are you feeling?” asked Desh cautiously.
“Idiot question!” snapped Griffin immediately. “What you’re really asking is: have I turned into the devil? If not, I would tell you no. If so, I would lie and still tell you no. Moron!” he finished disdainfully.
It may have been a stupid question, Kira thought, but Griffin’s response had been illuminating nonetheless. “You realize—”
“That I was as pathetic and slow as you are a few minutes ago. Yes, I know.” The blistering pace of Griffin’s keyboard and mouse manipulations didn’t slow as he spoke nor did conversation seem to affect his ability to digest entire screens of information at a glance.
Desh caught Kira’s eye worriedly, and she knew exactly what he was thinking. Griffin was also handling the transformation less well than had Kira. Less well, perhaps, even than Desh. So perhaps it was a testosterone effect after all.
The group let Griffin continue working in silence for the next fifteen minutes, not wanting to provoke the demon within. Kira finally decided it was time for a status report. “How is it coming, Matt?” she called from the other end of the vehicle.
Griffin’s hands hadn’t once stopped moving over the keyboard since he had begun. “Child’s play,” he said smugly. “I’ll be in NSA’s personnel database in about ten minutes.” He paused. “Meanwhile,” he announced with a superior air, “I’ve broken into the Federal Reserve and diverted 500 million dollars into your numbered Swiss bank account.”
Kira drew back, stunned.
“Relax,” snapped Griffin, correctly having predicted her reaction despite her being well out of his sight. “It’s a victimless crime. Just numbers in a computer. I didn’t steal anyone’s money, just created 500 million more. And yes, even though it’s a numbered and oh-so-secret Swiss account, I’m sure I put the funds in the correct one.”
“Why, Matt?” said Kira, concerned. “What prompted