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even your own.”

“WNN?”

“Yes, they seem to have more information than the rest. I guess you gave them a lot more than you gave any of us.”

Drew nodded and moved to the TV. He clicked it on. Some of the satellite images he leaked was pictured on the tube. Channel after channel showed the same images; telling the same story. His story. He’d managed to get it out there. He had two whole minutes of relief, cut short when he noticed a pattern. The networks only aired pictures he snail-mailed out. The additional data he’d emailed was left out. That meant his email was compromised. The GSA probably had tabs on him. Those bastards had blocked his messages. The whole story wasn’t out there.

He walked back over to the window, pushing the curtain slightly away, peeking outside. Maybe the gal who’d checked him in ratted on him. Or, maybe the hostess at the restaurant. He shrugged. Most likely, they didn’t even remember what he looked like.

“What do you think?” He surveyed the road. A woman walked her dog by a stop sign. No black SUV’s, like he’d seen in the movies. “Of the material. Explosive, right?”

“You sound nervous. Are you okay?”

“Not really. I spent last night and this morning running from the military.”

“Then you need to get on my show, ASAP, Drew. The more the world knows, the less leverage the military and the GSA have on you. Are you all right? Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Can you get me onto your show tonight?”

A pause. He heard Robert shuffling through papers. “I can fit you in my first hour slot, though you’ll be at the tail end of that hour.”

“I’ll take anything.”

“It’s all over the news. The people need to know the truth. I’m happy to have you on.”

“I only know snippets of truth, Robert.”

“But this is your story. Tell us what you can.”

“I have more...a lot more.”

“Send it over.”

“How? My email has been hacked. My phone is probably being...” Drew looked at his phone. Newbie mistake 3000. He used his own phone. He gave them the perfect way to find him. “I gotta go. I’ll call just before the interview. I don’t want to give them a chance to track me. Right now, I have to go somewhere.”

“Thanks, Drew. I’ll speak with you tonight.”

Drew hung up. He had to find a library, create a new email account, and upload his pictures. He’d send out another glob of emails, just as soon as he could. This time, no one would have his new email address, especially Colonel Slade Roberson or anyone else in the GSA. This needed to go primetime, all of it. His face would need to be everywhere. This story had to explode worldwide.

Sending data to every outlet he had a single connection with had worked once. It would work again. The networks were desperate for ratings and would do anything to get and keep their edge. A moment of pleasure weaseled to Drew’s mind, imagining Hobb’s face when the guy realized he had no choice but to air the photographs. The delight was short lived. Drew was still in grave danger. He had to break the rest of the story; at least the rest of what he knew.

But first, his phone. Could they trace his phone while turned off? He couldn’t just throw it away, because everything he needed to expose Slade and GSA sat in his photo library. He couldn’t take out his battery either. His phone didn’t allow it, unless he wanted to screw it up and make it unusable.

He had to make sure “AnimationSpoof” malware, a malware program from some asshole Chinese hackers, wasn’t on his phone. If attached, shutting off his phone would do nothing. AnimationSpoof created an authentic shutdown animation, making his phone seem as if it was shutdown and turned off. It couldn’t be further from the truth and would still be on and traceable.

Pressing his phone’s security icon, he tapped on third party site applications and deleted everything he could find, including Samarai’s Destiny, the greatest game east of the Mississippi. He didn’t want to take the chance.

He ran a security prompt on AnimationSpoof, just in case it got past third party software. It hadn’t. He was safe and shut off his phone. He couldn’t be traced. Not while his phone was off. Crap. Maybe they could? He’d have to hope for the best.

He stood, ready to find a library. Then froze. The TV displayed satellite image after satellite image, the newscasters trying to figure out how pyramids could get on a Jupiter moon, along with jets and helicopter pads. They questioned if this was something alien or a secret government program no one knew about.

Drew laughed. This would be the news story of the century and it had his name written all over it.

32

June 5thUnderfoot Black, Grenada

Slade crossed his arms in front of a computer screen. A picture of a brain, highlighted in yellows, greens, blues, and reds displayed on the monitor. “What the hell am I looking at, Donny?”

Donny gestured toward Jaxx. The guy was on the other side of a large window in a dimly lit room, held up by ropes that extended from the wall and wrapped around his wrists. He wore a helmet with wires and nodes. Unlike every other session Slade witnessed, Jaxx stood. But not still, and neither slumped nor defeated. This time, tall and erect, shifting from one foot to the other.

Donny tapped the computer screen. “Imaged here is Jaxx’s brain.”

Slade flicked his wrist at Jaxx. “Why do you insist on making Jaxx stand?”

“We don’t. It’s some type of standing meditation. Most people need to sit down and actively meditate. Jaxx, on the other hand, meditates while he’s unconscious. We hadn’t observed this in him before he had been shot, but since then, we can’t get him to lie down. We suspect this is a way his brain and central nervous system heals the best, fully extended and

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