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  He grew more frantic by the hour to recover his freedom. When at last an attendant entered the room, Crypto recognized him as a demon, too, and screamed in terror. The attendant injected Crypto with something, and once again, Crypto lost consciousness. Over the weeks that followed, Crypto spent more time in restraints than free to move about in what he learned was a state institution.

  His captors were understaffed and underfunded, but they had the means to maintain strict control. To his horror, Crypto found himself defenseless in a madhouse of antiseptic smells and callous attendants, populated by sometimes violent patients who often terrified him. Not only could his keepers restrain him and drug him, they had the power to condemn him to solitary confinement. And they could interrogate and probe him at will.

  Worst of all, when the masters of his fate were not satisfied with his progress – and for months they were not – they could raise the stakes. There were many treatments at their disposal, some of which were unlikely to help but which they were free to try, anyway. The worst of these was electroconvulsive therapy; he had horrific memories of writhing in agony as the electrodes fired, his back arching almost to the point of breaking against the cruel bonds holding him down. Yet it was the electroshock treatments that finally brought him a degree of mental clarity. Only then was he able to work out how to play the game and eventually escape.

  It was months before he emerged from the soulless, dingy, haunted wards of his prison. When he did, he was a changed man, one who had learned that the path to freedom lay in concealing his thoughts and controlling his actions.

  Still, the doctors had given him one thing of value, and that was a diagnosis. While dire, it was not as hopeless as he had feared. They concluded he suffered from schizoaffective disorder rather than schizophrenia, a severe but less harrowing fate. Some high-functioning sufferers, he read, led lives that appeared outwardly normal, despite the inner turmoil they often experienced. And together with a diagnosis came medications that finally helped control his delusions. When they fully took hold, he was at last released.

  With his newly regained freedom came a resolve to learn everything he could about anything that might help him maintain his equilibrium. He became fanatical about his diet, his sleep patterns, and his exercise. He kept a journal in which he recorded his daily medications, external stresses, and mental state. He pored over this data and fine-tuned his habits to what he thought was the best effect.

  Also, he wrote rational statements to read when he was irrational in the hope they would help him resist madness when his sanity was under attack. Whenever he felt himself slipping, he would recite these pronouncements like the credo of a private religion he hoped would save his rational soul from delusional hell: I am not evil. I can’t control others with my mind. Neither can they control mine.

  Most critically, he trained himself to give nothing away even when he was most ill. Medical authority, he had learned, could be as dangerous and abusive as political authority, and just as obsessed with asserting control over the individual. He spent endless hours in front of his mirror, acquiring the ability to remain blank-faced no matter what his state of mind. He set up a web cam to record himself when he was delusional and studied the recordings when he was sane. He came up with elaborate strategies he hoped would persuade his unreasoned self that outward tranquility was essential to prevent attacks by imaginary enemies. In short, he became the stage director of the daily performance of his life.

  So it was that he eventually felt able to return to his studies, telling anyone that asked that his long absence was due to a severe physical illness from which he was now fully recovered. His hard-won ability to feign normalcy when he was manic served him well. It also helped him establish a manipulative relationship with a psychiatrist in private practice.

  Crypto grew adept at persuading the compliant doctor to maximize the dosages of his prescriptions and to allow him to try new drugs as they became available. This allowed Crypto to gradually amass a stockpile of medications and to adjust dosages and drugs as he pleased. He learned to do this with what he believed was great success.

  Above all, he was committed to a singular goal: under no circumstances would he ever again allow himself to lose his freedom. Better to die insane than to find himself once again strapped, helpless, to a gurney, surrounded by white-coated ghouls attacking him with syringes and electrodes in order to bend his mind to their will.

  Chapter 10

  From Russia, Sans Love

  “Nice of you to call to check in on your old dad,” Frank said.

  “Of course,” Marla replied, “and anyway, I wanted to find out how the feeder’s working out. What kind of birds have you seen so far?”

  “None. Just Fang.”

  “Fang?”

  “That’s right. Fang. The squirrel that’s eating me out of house and home.”

  Marla giggled, appreciating the situation immediately – her father outsmarted by a tiny ball of fur. She couldn’t resist the urge to tweak him.

  “Well, I’m sure you can figure out a way to stop him. What have you tried so far?”

  “Well, I bought a baffle online to stop him from climbing down the wire.”

  “And?”

  “He switched to jumping up from the railing.”

  “So? Did you try moving the feeder?”

  “Of course, I did.”

  “And?”

  “He just finds a new launch pad. My balcony isn’t all that big, you know.”

  “Yeah, I can see how that would be a problem. Anyway, why Fang?”

  “Because the little devil slashed me.”

  “Slashed you? How in the world did he do that?”

  “I was trying to feed him by hand,” her father admitted.

  “Well, don’t do that again!”

  “You can bet I won’t. Anyway, I’ll figure out a way to beat him.”

  Marla smiled – this would be fun to follow. And she was putting her money on Fang.

  * * *

  A news update popped open on Frank’s phone as he sat in the silent comfort of one of the bank’s town cars. Hmm. He poked the link and saw an empty podium on a stage backed by a blue flag with a white compass rose. He turned up the sound to hear the voice-over.

  “In just a minute we expect NATO spokesperson Colonel Allan Bradley to provide an update regarding Russia’s latest ZAPAD military exercise – and it looks like that’s him now.”

  A uniformed man with a stern face and a short military haircut stepped up to the podium and adjusted the microphone.

  “Good afternoon. I’ll begin by reading a statement.

  “Earlier today, the Supreme Allied Commander Europe issued a warning to the Russian Federation to discontinue its build-up of military forces in Belarus. The Kremlin responded that its actions are part of a long-scheduled joint military exercise involving Belarusian and Russian land and air forces. The Kremlin maintains these exercises comply with protocols agreed upon by NATO and Russia under the Vienna Document, which since 1990 has required the exchange of certain military information between Russia and most European nations.

  “Under other sections of the same protocols, each side has the right to place on-site observers to monitor military exercises involving more than thirteen thousand military personnel. The purpose of these protocols is to lessen tensions and thereby stop preventable outbreaks of hostilities between East and West.

  “Based upon reliable satellite data and other information, NATO believes over twenty-eight thousand Russian ground forces are now in place close to Belarus’s borders with Latvia, Lithuania, and Poland. These troops are supported by more than one hundred fighter and bomber aircraft, as well as extensive tank, artillery, and mobile missile launch assets. Because the Russian Federation misrepresented its troop numbers in the pre-exercise information supplied to NATO, we have no observers in place. NATO regret
s that the Russian Federation has opted to ignore long-standing protocols, thereby increasing tensions in nations bordering Belarus.

  “That’s the end of the statement. I’ll now take questions. Okay – over there.”

  “Thank you, Colonel. Trevor Quinn, The London Times. Can you tell us why Russia would under-report the number of troops involved in these exercises?”

  “We can’t know for certain what is motivating these actions, but I can give you some historical context. One purpose of the reporting protocol is to limit a country’s ability to amass a force sufficient to launch an invasion under the guise of conducting military exercises. Violating this protocol was part of the playbook the Russians followed before invading Crimea and South Ossetia. Okay, over there.”

  “Julie Penbrook, NPR. Colonel, is there a real concern Russia is planning another invasion? Are tensions really that high?”

  “On your first question, I have no information indicating that is the case. On the second, keeping tensions low is another reason for the protocols. Throughout history, aggressors have blamed their victims, claiming severe provocation or that the other side attacked first. The list of examples is almost endless: Hitler’s invasion of Poland, Russia’s aggression in Ukraine, and so on.” The colonel pointed to someone on the other side of the room. “Your question, please,” he said.

  “Ralf Menning, Die Zeit. If not as a prelude to an invasion, Colonel, why would Russia under-report its troops? Is this simply theater for a domestic audience?”

  “As I stated previously, we don’t know the specific reasons for Russia’s actions. That said, Russia’s economy is suffering badly under economic sanctions imposed in response to previous Kremlin aggression. Sergei Denikin, the Russian president, has a long history of saber-rattling to increase his popularity, and he’s been quite successful in achieving that result. Seeming to put one over on NATO always plays well for him at home.

  “I also expect President Denikin wants to show those abroad that he can force Belarus to come to heel. A year ago, the Belarusian president signaled he might back out of the close alliance that has bound his country and Russia for decades. The current exercise sends a clear signal to the people of Belarus that Russia can rapidly deploy extensive forces into their country any time it wants. These exercises demonstrate to NATO as well that Russia is capable of sending a large force into the heart of Eastern Europe at will.

  “But I say again we can’t know for sure what Russia’s true purpose here may be. That means we need to be prepared to respond to all contingencies. Too many wars have been launched on this continent on false pretexts. We don’t want to allow another situation to get out of hand.”

  We sure don’t, Frank thought, closing the browser. Russia had been growing more aggressive ever since Georgia, a former Soviet Socialist Republic, announced it wanted to join NATO. Among those actions, Russia had pulled out of European arms agreements, expanded its military, and launched other exercises like this one on NATO’s doorstep. How far was it planning to push things this time?

  * * *

  “Frank?”

  He looked up from his desk on the IT floor at the bank. Now what might she want?

  “Hi, Ruth. What’s up?”

  “Nothing, I just wanted to apologize for Dirk’s behavior the other day. He could have been more helpful.”

  “Well!” Frank replied, “That’s hardly your fault. That was just Dirk being Dirk. He’s not the easiest guy to get information from.”

  “I know,” Ruth said, “That’s the other reason I thought I’d stop by. I’m getting up to speed pretty quickly, so if there’s ever anything you’d like to know, feel free to ask me. I might know the answer.”

  “That’s very kind of you – thanks. I might take you up on that.” Frank waited, wanting to get back to work. But Ruth was still standing at the door to his office. “And?” he said.

  “I hate to take your time, but I’m not a security person by training. There are a couple things that aren’t making sense to me with BankCoin. If you have ten minutes sometime, I’d love to ask you about them. Dirk doesn’t seem willing to spend time with me on anything other than what I need to know to cover for him.”

  Frank sighed. “Sure. Now’s as good a time as any. Have a seat.”

  To Frank’s surprise, he found it easy to talk with Ruth. When she left, he realized half an hour had passed and that he’d likely gotten more out of the conversation than she had. Despite his perpetual unease with people, he knew he did his best thinking out loud. And Ruth was an exceptionally good listener.

  * * *

  President Yazzi did not like being pushed. He especially didn’t like the corner his advisers were trying to maneuver him into right now. True, there was the chance for a big win, but only at a significant cost. If he approved the plan his national security adviser was pitching his pro-environmental supporters were sure to howl. And he wasn’t convinced it would put enough economic pressure on the Kremlin to bring Russia to the bargaining table.

  To the good, the plan was based on a strategy that had worked before, when an aggressive, decades-long arms race had helped bring an end to the Cold War by pushing the Soviet Union to the brink of bankruptcy.

  Of course, the fruits of that Reagan-era military spending didn’t last forever. A decade after the Soviet Union collapsed, leadership passed to a Russian president who bitterly resented his country’s loss of superpower status. When the skyrocketing price of oil later refilled the Kremlin’s coffers, he used it to rebuild the military and reassert Russian influence abroad. Russia’s gross domestic product was still only eight percent of the United States’ – less than the annual output of Italy, South Korea, or Canada. But what the Kremlin lacked in economic power it made up in shear cussedness. And it had thousands of nuclear weapons.

  Yazzi couldn’t pretend the economic sanctions already in place were working. So, what more could he do? According to Jim Wakeman, his national security adviser, the answer was to artificially depress the price of oil and keep it there until the Russians buckled. And he had a point. Without some new way to put the screws on, Russia would remain a pain in America’s behind.

  Yazzi snapped out of his reverie and frowned at the waiting faces around the table. Besides the members of the NSC, his chief of staff had invited the secretary of the interior and the administrator of the Environmental Protection Agency to join today’s meeting. Now everyone was looking at him, waiting for his decision. Well, they could wait a little longer.

  “Hugh,” he said, turning to the secretary of state. “How much can we count on the Saudis if we do this? They’ll take a big financial hit. Are you sure they’ll hang in there for as long as this takes?”

  “They’re all in, Mr. President. Luckily, the OPEC alliance has been in a shambles lately. If it weren’t for that, we wouldn’t be making this proposal. Anyway, the Saudis are furious that Russia never pulled out of Syria after ISIS was defeated. They’re even more concerned over Russia collaborating with Iran. The crown prince wants everyone to acknowledge the House of Saud as the dominant power in the Middle East, and he rightly figures that won’t happen if Iran can rely on Russian support. Plus, this will give him another chance to show everybody how tough he is.”

  “Did you get down to specifics?” Yazzi asked. Hugh Calhoun had not been his first choice for secretary of state or even his second. He hadn’t wanted a politician to fill such an important post, because they were big on talk but short on execution. But the process of getting his nominees through a fractious Senate had worn Yazzi down, and Calhoun had served four terms in the Senate, allowing him to sail through with the support of his cronies and colleagues. “If we go forward with this,” Yazzi continued, “everyone’s going to have to agree to stick it out for as long as it takes.”

  “The Saudi ambassador assured us they’re willing to help hold the price of oil below thirty-five dollars a ba
rrel until the Russians come to the table,” Calhoun said.

  “And how long will that be – on the outside?” Yazzi asked.

  “The Kremlin’s back is already pretty much against the wall,” Calhoun said. “The price of oil hasn’t topped forty-five dollars a barrel in twenty-one months. Natural gas prices are at historical lows, too, so their cash reserves must be running dry. And then there’s the acceleration in alternative energy sources coming online. That’s starting to have a significant effect. Even without further technological advances, alternative energy sources should push oil prices down about a dollar this year and accelerate from there.”

  “That’s not what I asked,” Yazzi said. “We won’t be able to get US oil companies to keep oil prices down forever. How long will it take for this to work?”

  “That’s where the concessions on drilling on public lands come in,” the secretary of the interior chimed in. “We’ve come up with a list of the least environmentally-sensitive public land tracts and offshore areas that are currently off-limits to drilling. If we agree to drop those restrictions, almost all the oil companies say they’ll play ball. Of course, we’ll have to give them a waiver from antitrust prosecution, too. An agreement between competitors to cap prices would otherwise be a criminal activity.”

  “Right,” Yazzi said. “But now tell me this. How am I supposed to justify opening public lands for drilling after I promised to be pro-environment? Why won’t this look like a sellout to special interests?”

  Wakeman took a deep breath. This was indeed the tough part. “We’re certainly not going to make everybody happy with this plan, Mr. President. But I think most voters will understand if we explain three things clearly. The first is the Russians are a major threat to world stability. That’s got to stop, and the current economic sanctions haven’t been enough.