“No,” Op Nine said. “He lives.”
“Not for much longer,” I growled, and I shouted into Mike’s face, “Where is it, Mike? Where’s the Vessel?”
“Alfred,” Op Nine said softly. “He can’t hear you.”
We searched the cabin for two hours, from the rafters to the floorboards. We checked the crawlspace and under the porch. We walked the grounds, looking for any signs of digging. I had gone through the bedroom twice before realizing I forgot to look under the bed.
I didn’t find the Vessel under there, but I did find a laptop computer. An IBM ThinkPad. I carried it into the main room, set it down on the coffee table, and booted it up.
“What is this?” Op Nine asked.
“It’s an OIPEP computer,” I said. “Maybe after he was fired, Mike stole it like he stole the Seal, but I don’t think so. I’ve got a very bad feeling about this.”
“OIPEP?” Mr. Needlemier asked. He looked like somebody trapped in a nightmare. I knew the feeling. “What is an OIPEP?”
“Good people who sometimes have to do bad things,” I muttered.
It seemed to take forever for the screen to pop up, and my stomach did a slow roll when it did.
Op Nine and Mr. Needlemier crowded over my shoulder, and the three of us stared at the screen.
Integrated Security
Interface System
[ISIS]
User Warning: Use of this Interface is restricted to Company personnel with Security Clearances of A-17 or above.
Any unauthorized access of this System will result in immediate termination and forfeiture of all rights and privileges granted to personnel under Section 1.256 of the OIPEP Charter.
For Security Protocols related to use of ISIS, see Section 4 of the Charter.
User Login:
Password:
“ ‘Isis,’ ” Mr. Needlemier breathed.
Mike still lay out cold on the sofa beside us. I pushed Mr. Needlemier out of the way and jabbed Mike’s shoulder.
“Mike! Wake up!”
“That won’t be necessary,” Op Nine said softly. His long fingers raced over the keys.
I stared at him. “You remember?”
He smiled grimly. “A Superseding Protocol Agent has access to all user accounts.”
I peered over his shoulder as he pulled up Mike’s e-mails. Nobody said anything as he clicked them open, one by one.
“What’s ‘Sub-Sub-Sec Op Utopia’?” I asked.
“ ‘Sec Op’ stands for ‘Secret O
peration,’ Alfred. A Sub-Sub-Sec is an operation of the highest secrecy—director’s eyes only.”
“And Utopia?”