GRIDLOCK by Alvin Ziegler, First Four Chapters

8/9/2019 GRIDLOCK by Alvin Ziegler, First Four Chapters

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GRIDLOCK/Alvin Ziegler 1

GRIDLOCKA Novel of Suspense

By Alvin Ziegler


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Alvin Ziegler

[email protected]

148 Alhambra StreetSan Francisco, California 94123

Telephone: 415.567.5760
mailto:[email protected]:[email protected]


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Acknowledgments

The biggest thanks goes to my wife for her patience. She kept me writing to the

end. Without her and the sage guidance of my editor/director, Margaret Lucke,

this story would be lying in a drawer. My technical advisor was the generous

Josh Bernstein. Aside from fact-checking the story with me in a Peruvian cafe,

he toured me around Celeras gene laboratory in Alameda, California. Celera, of

course, sequenced the human genome at a fraction of the cost of the U.S.

government project.

The rest of the crew were: my incredible parents, Jean Cartwright, Carole

Taylor, Martha Jarocki, David Booth, Mark Solomon, Richard Threfall, John

Houghton, Tom Parker, Nick Booth, Kris Wilhelm, Anne Mahoney, Joanne

Gomez, Lee Lofland, FBI Gang Unit Chief, George Q. Fong, FBI-trained hostage

negotiator, Robin Burcell and Jack Bennett, FBI Cyber Supervisor, San Francisco

Division. A heartfelt thank you goes to those I forgot to mention. The skilled

videographer who concocted my second book trailer is Nick Mead.

The timeline, while not literally taken from Wired Magazine, was based on

an article in the November 17 issue from 2007. Lastly, a number of us will

never forget our friend, Jerry Tuttle.


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_____________________________________________

The Grid is expected to be the next World Wide Web.

CERN, the Swiss research laboratory that pioneered both.

"The effort to decipher the human genome . . . will be the scientific

breakthrough of the centuryperhaps of all time.

President Bill Clinton, March 14, 2000

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Facts

Wherever we go, we carry four billion years of information on humanity. The United

States Government spent over $2.7 billion on decoding our DNA, but that didnt

finish the job. Decoding our DNA proved far simpler than interpreting the data that

it produced so its secrets remained locked.

Some liken the difference between decoding our DNA and interpreting it to the

difference between identifying every part of the space shuttle and getting it to fly.

Unmercifully, the sick and dying have been given a promise that science hasnt

delivereduntil now.

A lightning fast computer network called a grid is interpreting our DNA. It can

solve virtually any question that can be calculated. Using grid technology, scientists

are creating custom drugs to treat diseases like cancer that are as individual as a

fingerprint instead of the on-size-fits all approach. This revolutionary advancement

is reshaping medicine and insurance, changing healthcare forever.

This book was inspired by actual organizations, technologies, and science.


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Actual Timeline of the Genome

Four Billion

Years Ago

The beginning of DNA is thought to be created by the

aggregation of simple, self-replicating molecules in the

primordial swamp that existed on earth at that time.

1850s Gregor Mendel, the father of modern genetics established

the principles of genetic inheritance by studying pea plants.

1900 Thomas Hunt Morgan, American geneticist discovered the

basics of dominant and recessive traits and links on a

chromosome. Awarded the Nobel Prize.

1950 Barbara McClintock, the worlds most distinguished

cytogeneticist discovered that chromosomes exchange

information by jumping genes.

April 2003 The Human Genome Project, a full map of our genetic code, is

completed for $2.7 billion in thirteen years.

December

2005

The Cancer Genome Atlasa three-year, $100 million pilot

project to explore the genetic connections to cancerislaunched.

May 2007 James Watson's whole genome is sequenced at a cost of less

than $1 million dollars.

September

2007

Craig Venter publishes the results of his own sequenced

genome.

October 6,

2009

IBM announces plans to bring the cost of DNA sequencing to

as low as $100, making a personal genome cheaper than a

ticket to a Broadway play.


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one

Friday, October 28

Meyrin, Switzerland

Jurgen rushed from his apartment at 9:45 A.M., tightening his watch strap.

The silver Mercedes limousine purred at the curb. He climbed into the backseat

and squeaked into leather upholstery.

Lets go, Jurgen said through the limo window, lowering the arm rest.

The limo hummed through the foothills of the jagged Jura Mountains. He could

see the cerulean blue of Lake Geneva, surrounded by snow-capped peaks that

extended to the Savoy Alps in France. Cloud wisps swirled over the water as if the

earth was cooling after its creation. Through the mylar glass, he glimpsed red hair

beneath the drivers cap.

Wheres Adrian? Jurgen asked through the limo window.

Out sick.

This was no day for bumbling around in the twenty-six cantons of Switzerland.

You do know the way to CERN?

Jurgen started to recite the organizations address. The driver cocked her head

around.

Yes, Director Hansen.

At least the limo service had briefed her. The car passed four schoolchildren

playing tag at a bus stop.


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Jurgen slid papers from his briefcase. He drummed fingers, studying his talking

notes. He pictured the faces of executives of the medical community. They had

flown from around the world to visit CERNsome would be annoyed to find that

Meyrin was only a glorified agricultural village.

Jurgen wouldnt let Dr. Onagi bore them today. No. The show stopper would be

the Grid network.

He checked the closeness of his shave.

When the Blackberry in his suit coat vibrated, he scanned Tatianas missive: Im

wearing Escade perfumesoon that will be all Im wearing.

He adjusted the knot on his tie, gazing at the road. The limo hugged mountain

contours as it dropped in elevation.

A petite redhead who traveled with silk handcuffs and a riding crop awaited

Jurgen after his speech at CERN. She helped him unwind with sexual role-play. He

text messaged a reply: Meet me @ Zermatt airport, British Airways, Gate 14, term

2, 4 PM J. Tonight they would hook up at a chateau high in the Alps where he

would star in her Russian seductress game. He had made reservations at the luxury

mountain resort to celebrate the big day.

Jurgen had picked up Tatiana at a Geneva club two weeks back. He didnt know

yet how long hed keep hergirlfriend shelf life ran five weeks tops; after that they

became clingy.

Shrouded by tinted glass, he reclined against the headrest. As the limo cut

along the highway, Jurgen envisioned Tatianas lips working his chest. The blare of a

truck horn pulled him back to reality.

Looking through the rear window again, his eye caught the Bernese Alpine

Valley.


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He hammered on the window divide. Driver.

There is construction, Sir, the chauffeur said sternly. Were making a

detour.

Jurgens watch read ten-thirty. I cant be late.

Im taking a shortcut.

Jurgens claustrophobia surfaced.

The driver veered the limo off the highway. Jurgen felt a nerve flutter. Theyd

turned onto a side road. Tires grumbled over rocks. The road narrowed, giving way

to clover and dirt over a canopied path that was no more than a partially paved cow

trail.

His mouth went dry. Where are we going?

Without answering, the driver pressed a button in the glove compartment.

Jurgen caught that she wore an earpiece.

Hey.

The driver rolled up her sleeves. We are close.

Are you listening?

The woman hunched at the wheel.

Holding his Blackberry, Jurgen hit the three-digit Swiss code for emergencies.

No cell signal. Communications were usually good here.

The limo halted at the edge of a lake. The driver whipped open Jurgens car

door.

Out, the driver ordered.

Jurgen held the limo handle. What is this?

The woman leveled a handgun at Jurgens forehead.

He jerked his hands high, forgetting those visions of greatness. Easy!


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The clearing had the calm of a cemetery. Watching the unblinking woman,

Jurgen dropped one foot outside the car, then the other. She had the shoulders of a

competitive swimmer. What looked like a birth mark covered the left side of her

face.

The woman popped open the silver Mercedes trunk with the car key, revealing a

coil of fishing line and a twenty-pound gym weight.

Remove the line, the woman ordered. The weight, too.

As Jurgen picked them up, he heard a buzz from overhead. A twin-engine plane

a businessman on holiday, perhaps. If only that plane could be Jurgens charter.

His eyes swept over the wooded lake, grasping at a way out. There were no houses

within sight.

So much for being in the land of neutrality.

The plane noise quieted. A breeze rustled dry leaves past his feet.

Tie that weight to your leg and knot it tight!

Cradling the weights against his chest, Jurgen begged, Do you want money?

Take my wallet.

That wont be necessary.

Who do you work for?

Those who protect us all. She kept the gun trained on his head.

What about my protection?

Save your breath!

He bent and tied, picturing the worst. Time to act. Is this about the Grid?

Jurgen jerked into a standing position, carrying the weight.

Hey! The woman shouted.


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He lunged and hurled the weight at the womans moving head. The weight

struck her shoulder, knocking her down. She dropped the gun and fell beside the

weight.

Jurgen leapt for the gun. With a crawl and grunt, the woman beat him to it. On

the ground, she pointed the gun and fired.

He touched the red between his fingers.

Winded, the woman awkwardly returned to her feet.

What do you want? Jurgens voice broke.

She lowered the gun. Get that weight.

Blood snaked down his arm. He shimmied to the gym weight, pulled it and the

fishing line toward him with one hand. Aching, he bound it around his ankle.

The woman brushed dirt from her hat, gesturing for him to get up.

Jurgen lumbered to his feet, checking his shoulder. Does this involve Jude

Wagner? Killing me doesnt end the medical revolution. It doesnt change the FDA

decision.

The FDA had recently approved genomic drug trials for diabetes patients.

The womans face hardened. She motioned with the gun muzzle for Jurgen to

step into the lake. He hesitated then moved into the water. Waist deep, he stepped

out of his loafers and dove under the algae-covered surface. Underwater, he

struggled to lose the weight that was tied to his leg. The October sun had failed to

warm the icy lake.His legs were turning numb and his frozen fingers fumbled with

the fishing line. His head surfaced.

Gasping, he heard a blast. In the first nanosecond he felt a sharp tap. In shock,

he felt no pain but he could no longer fill his lungs with air.

Another shot slammed into his forehead. Silence. Time stopped.


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Ripples spread in symmetry above his sinking head.


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two

Friday, October 28

San Francisco, CA

Aiming his car key button at his Mazda, Jude locked the MX6 on Hyde Street. He had

found a spot without circling on crammed Russian Hill.

He passed a family of five parading from an ice cream parlor. The store

manager followed them out, flipping a closed sign on the glass door. The kids

giggled at their father when his scoop hit the pavement.

The scene resurrected a hazy childhood memory. His mother used to carpool

him and his friends from Little League games to the Baskin Robbins ice cream shop

after the ninth inning. She would buy a hot-fudge sundae for any batter who got on

base. She wouldve been proud that her wild-eyed son had become an FBI agent.

At his ground-floor flat, he pulled out his phone and text messaged his twin

sister, Kate, Thinking about mom today. SEND.

He put his phone away, shaking off the effects of bourbon. Kate had told Jude

that his living alone led to brooding.

He picked up the New York Times electric blue plastic bag and carried it through

the front gate to the Mediterranean-styled three-story house. Ruby bougainvillea


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covered the stucco exterior. Under a trellis of hibiscus, he strode brick steps to his

door.

He put the key inside the lock; it cranked too easily. No resistance. The Baldwin

bolt had already been turned. The idea of calling the cops crossed his mind, but he

couldve forgotten to lock up. He slowly pushed the door open and moved inside his

narrow place. The ceiling spotlights in the hallway had been switched on.

Had he turned them off when hed left that morning? Crossing the living room,

he made a fist. The bookcase had been emptied. Mystery paperbacks, San

Francisco history books and rock concert ticket stubs decorated the floor. Papers

that had been stacked on the rice chest-turned-coffee table were now strewn on the

oriental rug.

Maybe the intruder hadnt left. He listened for creaks in the floor.

Except for wind lashing at the windows, he heard nothing. Not even a fog horn.

Lightly, he stepped to the kitchen. Open cupboard drawers showed rearranged

boxes of pasta noodles and chips. In the bedroom, his Chinese dresser doors were

ajar. Shirts, suits and a high school wrestling trophy had tumbled out on the floor. In

the mini-study, he checked on his desktop computer. The drive bay was hollow and

dark, the hard drive missing.

Cursing to himself, he heard the scuffling of hard-soled shoes from the front

hallway. Around the corner, a man in a suit kicked open the closet door, then raced

outside the flat.

Into draughty air howling off the bay, Jude barreled down the steep grade of

Filbert Street. Across the gulch, Coit Tower glowed, a beacon in the night.

The thick-bodied man bobbed in his flapping suit jacket. Practiced at navigating

the decline, Jude easily tapped down the steps. As the street leveled, he locked on


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his subject, advancing on his strides. Years of Grid information was stored on that

hard drive. While Jude usually backed up everything daily, he had failed to do so

after a breakthrough he had made earlier that day. He regretted not grabbing his

service weapon from under his bed on the way outa new agent blunder.

They plowed into North Beach. Jude clipped by Washington Square Park. A faint

aroma of roasted bean emanated from a closed coffee store. Only ten feet behind

the man, Jude lunged and brought him to the pavement outside a pizzeria. While on

the ground, the man gripped the hard drive. With one knee on him, Jude pulled the

mans arms behind him.

Call the cops, some voice from the restaurant shouted.

Im a Federal agent, Jude said.

The man turned over, breaking free. A Range Rover skidded to a stop. A spry

woman in a brown jumpsuit hopped out like a hockey player hitting ice. Next, her

boot pressed into the back of Judes neck, forcing him to asphalt. With her mitt of a

hand, she snatched the hard drive and papers.

Jude snagged her leg, sending her to the sidewalk for a time out. The hard drive

dropped to the ground. Jude intercepted it before he was slugged in the abdomen.

Elbows tucked, he held the hard drive close and fended off one assailant while

the other scrambled. But they were out of reach with Jude thrashing, so they

rammed him in the knees. He went palms and face down onto the pavement.


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three

Friday, October 28

Meyrin, Switzerland

Alone on the observation deck, Hideo Onagi could almost hear his heart beat. Noise

travelled easily in this all white chamber, three hundred feet underground, beneath

the Franco-Swiss border. This was where the famous collider operated. He stared

glassy-eyed at the bottom of a cavernous, two-story room at the most expensive

scientific experiment in history.

His stomach churned. Family turmoil and the gravity of this presentation had

set off Hideos ulcer. He had arranged to fly to his estranged wife once this was

over.

He flipped through 3x5 note cards, reviewing his talking points.

Returning the cards to his pocket, he felt something else there and took out a

photo of his daughter, Yomikoage nine and the joy of his life. He gazed at it

briefly, then pushed it back into his pocket.

Below, a sort of subway platform served as a maintenance station to the

monorail that traveled along a twenty-seven-kilometer circumference.


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Hideos attendees arrived taking in girders and struts which supported the high-

ceilinged space. The time had come for him to show off the scientific breakthrough

that took decades to build.

Two dozen board members and financial officers from the worlds largest

hospitals and universities had jetted from around the world to this vast lab in

secluded Meyrin. They looked about, stone-faced, at the consoles that were

connected by colored wires that lined the walls.

Hideo tapped his rubber-soled shoe for composure, afraid hed blow his chance

to get vital donations.

The history of science had been strewn with great discoveries that were first

met with cold indifference before acceptance.

That couldnt happen here. Delay of action on this genome project could cost

tens of thousands of lives.

Jurgen, CERNs Life Science Director, should be here. These were his contacts.

Jurgen said hed handle the walking-tour part of the presentation. Hideo used his

phone to fire off an unusually direct text message to Jurgen.

WHERE ARE YOU?

Although he represented the Stanford University side of things, Hideo was going

to have to fill in for Jurgen. But Hideos area of molecular biology involved computer

science, artificial intelligence and biochemistrynot physics.

At the trial of his life, Hideo was minus the expert witness. These strangers

would render a pass-fail verdict on work that had consumed him for years.

Hideo flushed with embarrassment when the consortiumhuddled together as

a mini United Nationsstared at him. They had come to hear a scholarly revelation

about how this would change medicine. That would come. First, they had to see


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what CERNs Grid computer did. Hideo felt like an out-of-town lawyer before a

restless jury.

He gestured toward the huge bright blue metal pipe overhead.

After introducing himself, Hideo said, This pipe runs through a cement-lined

tunnel that extends in a seventeen-mile subterranean circle. The metal used here

could build another Eiffel Tower. On the wall beneath the pipe, exotic instruments

flashed.

The audience started to chatter.

As you may know, the Large Hadron Collider is the most powerful accelerator

in the world, operating at minus two hundred and seventy-one Centigradecolder

than deep space. Hideo thought a moment, then said, This nine-billion-dollar

underground linear accelerator was designed to smash protons to analyze the big

questions of the big bang, cosmologyohand unified theory. Superconducting

magnets are used to guide protons into a massive collision for observation.

A fat man interrupted, looking at the tube above. Wait, how does that relate

Thats coming. Scientists wouldnt have gotten anywhere without a big enough

computer to analyze all of the data. CERN employed a computer system called a

grid to study results.

Attendees murmured, rubbing their arms. He was losing them.

Fat man said, Like an electrical power grid?

Not exactly. Computer grids link thousands of computers to work as a single

virtual machine. This Grid analyzes the equivalent of thirteen million DVDs worth of

information that the particle collision produces.

A hawk-faced lady dressed in black: What does this do for healthcare?


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Hideo spoke with tension in his voice. Were repurposing this world computer

to analyze the human genomethe total hereditary content of an individual. It

holds four billion years of information on humanity, the ultimate human recipe book.

Thats why youre here, to see how your dollars can mine the genome, the greatest

discovery in scientific history. Interpreting the genome enables us to diagnose every

disease. You see, the Grid will change society as the Internet did; it will not only

crunch diagnoses, but will answer anything that can be calculated.

He paused to let the message sink in and was gratified to see he had eye

contact.

The hawk lady pointed skeptically at the flashing instruments. This is how

youll change medicine?

Let me explain. CERNs physicists built the Grid to handle questions that are

exponentially more complex than any computer systems could handle before.

Conveniently, the Grid runs over the World Wide Webwhich CERN also invented to

analyze atom-smashing results.

A technician entered the room below and started electrical equipment.

Hideo raised his voice to speak over the burring noise, The Grid also powers

Stanford Universitys research. Its all about distributed processing power,

connecting computers everywhere to work as one.

A Persian man in a finely tailored, double-breasted suit said, How will this help

the general public?

Im getting to that.

The hawk-faced woman said, So Jude Wagner isnt speaking today?


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Hes not. Hideo wrung his hands. He and Jurgen had invited Jude to be

present for this important meeting, but these days Jude was overbooked. He now

worked the FBIs Cyber Investigation Squad which demanded his grid expertise.

Jude had achieved international acclaim for his computer discovery and would

soon receive the Turing Award from Intel Corporation.

Lets go to Building Six, Hideo said, Ill explain as we have refreshments.

Mercifully, Hideo sensed his audience lightening up. With a flick of a CERN tour

guide flag, he directed them forward.

He stole a look at his watch. Jurgen was over an hour late. Good god. Could he

be hung over sick from a night of carousing?

After an elevator ride to the ground level, they filed to Building Six. While the

group exchanged hotel stories and restaurant recommendations, Hideo checked his

phone but saw no messages.

Hideo led the way to a conference room where attendees ate hors d'oeuvres

until Hideo motioned for everyone to get comfortable at the rosewood table. Bottles

of Evian water and folders were set on the table at precise intervals for each

person.

The orderly area reminded Hideo of his fastidious wife and their soul-searing

divorce. His daughters face flashed before him. He moved across the conference

room to get back to his performance. Jurgens absence had thrown him off.

Okay. The question from earlier was how this Grid partnership with Stanford

was going to help the public.

Yes, came from the Persian man, sipping Evian.

The goal is to improve everyday medicine using our genomes. The genome is

our roadmap to understanding disease. All disease has a hereditary basis. Were


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tapping into that with huge processing power. The U.S. government got us part of

the way there by sequencing the human genome in 2003, but that was just a start

and that took 13 years and two-point-seven billion dollars.

Perspiration soaked his Polo shirt. Hideo fiddled with his wedding ring.

What does genomic medicine do that traditional medicine cant? The fat man

asked.

Traditional medicine is failing. It treats everyone who has cancer with a short

list of drugs like were all the same. In reality, cancer is as individual as a

fingerprint. Were talking about one-point-four million people being diagnosed with

cancer annually in the U.S. alone who are being lumped together with treatment

that ignores their DNA. Its time we match individual treatment to individuals. Side

effects from mis-prescription kills over 100,000 Americans a year. he said.

Genomic medicine will change this.

How? Hawk Lady asked.

Once we identify an individuals genome, a world of information becomes

available to us: a persons body chemistry, his predispositions, his susceptibilities,

his strengths and weaknesses on a molecular level.

Hideo took a deep breath.

By the way, some of this is in your brochure. The Stanford Project works like

this: a patient has his genome sequenced by a company like 23andMe based in the

San Francisco Bay Areathis costs around one thousand dollars. The results would

come back on two DVDs to the patient and his doctor. That doctor could then log

onto Stanfords secured website to access the Grid. The Grid would compare the

genomic data from those DVDs against millions of other online medical records,


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isolating tissue samples from patients with similar symptoms or disease. The result:

a customized treatment for your individual illness.

When you combine this Grid that crunches massive amounts of data with

electronic records from hospitals for instance, well, you end up with a very powerful

thing.

The audience had gone dead silent.

Can you back up? Where do those patient records come from? asked a man

with a Scottish accent.

Good question. For years, medical researchers struggled with doing statistical

analysis. Hospitals, doctors offices and pharmacies used disparate computer

systems. Thus, networks couldnt communicate, making medical records

inaccessible. Vital information that could save lives was wasted.

Finally, research hospitals teamed up with everyone possible to get the data

online. The solution started with creating systems of security that topped that of the

ATM business. Of course, even putting anonymous medical information online was

controversial. Everyone feared the upshot of a privacy breach, but the need to save

lives won the war over privacy fears. Computer standards were created and

information pooled. Mind you, all names, social security numbers and hospital

account numbers remained anonymous. While this was happening, the search

engines of the world connected that pooled information to create an even larger

dataset.

So, whats next? The question came from a man seated at the far end of the

table.

Well, already at Stanford, were diagnosing volunteers illnesses through a

system of comparison, using their DNA. The Grid matches bits of molecular


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information from tumors with exactly the right drug to suppress that tumor. To treat

each cancer patient individually means a boat load of analysis. The computer power

of the Grid makes it possible. In the case of cancer, we fight mutations with custom-

made proteins that conform to that persons body chemistry.

Some heads nodded subtly.

A Persian man asked, Is there someone from CERN who is assigned to this

Stanford Project?

I shouldve mentioned, Jurgen Hansen, CERNs Director of Life Sciences, is the

liaison between this lab and Stanfords. He maintains the physical Internet

connection which links this Grid to Stanford.

The Scottish man said, Personalized medicine is a pipedream until we make it

affordable.

Hideo stood tall to elongate his short stature. Exactly. Thats the point here.

Were also in the business of democratizing medicine; making the costly part

research and diagnosisfree.

How? the same man interrupted.

Were leveraging shared computer resources. Not only do grids run over the

Internet, which is free, but they get power from volunteers idle computers. In the

packet youll see how this Grid at CERN relies on distributed processing power from

volunteers.

I see doubt. Believe me, all we need are the resources. Isnt fighting cancer as

worthy a mission as landing spacecraft on Mars? If we dont push medicine forward

1500 Americans will go on dying from cancer every day and thirty-nine million

people will still have AIDS in Africa because old expensive drugs are failing.


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Why not invest a fraction of that and get a leg up on the fight against diseases

like cancer? You can see what a marvel CERNs Grid is if were using it to make

sense of the Big Bang.

Audience members turned to one another. Hideo scored a point.

Looking at his watch, he checked on the time leading to his departing flight.

I know this is a lot to swallow, but we can agree healthcare in the West is

disappointing. The Stanford/CERN partnership is testing a non-profit alternative to

our existing universal healthcare, and we need your support.

Brochures were being opened when a man entered the room.

Excuse me for being late. He said.

While the room was silent the new man found a seat and took the opportunity

to speak. Apologies if youve already covered this, but what exactly would our

endowment money accomplish?

To Hideos relief, eyes tracked him as he circled the table. Your investment will

pay employee salaries to build Stanfords online service. Your dollars guarantee we

have processing power from places like CERN. It also extends our Grid to every

home PCrunning like a worldwide databasebringing supercomputing power to

desktops, virtually. Well have one enormous virtual super computerthe same

way researchers from 25 countries analyzed the collision of particles here through a

Grid of institutions and universities around the world. And, yes, well need specially

trained pharmacists to mix the customized drugs.

The room went quiet. After fielding another dozen questions, Hideos mind

strayed to his flight. His plane was leaving in less than two hours. Barely enough

time to get to the airport.

He delivered his plea for investment and thanked everyone.


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But nothing from Jurgen! Something had to be wrong.

Still, Jurgens absence hadnt been as detrimental as Hideo had thought. His

pitch had to have won some new backers.

Excuse me, everyone, Hideo announced. I have a flight to catch.


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four

Friday, October 28

San Francisco, CA

A patrol cars P.A. chirp signaled cars to make way. The attackers released Jude as

the cruiser whipped around the corner and stopped. The man and woman ran to the

Rover and screeched off.

On your feet, came from a voice above.

Flat on his back, Jude flashed back to high school wrestling practice. That vision

changed when his eyes opened to a bystander and two cops. Three heads

silhouetted against the night sky. One cop gave a repulsed expression at Judes

alcohol breath. One strike against him.

Im with the FBI, Jude choked.

No response came from the mustached officer. Two cardboard cutouts of men

wouldve been more animated. After getting on his feet, Jude showed the officer his

wallet and badge. The bystander vanished into the dark.

Stand back, the officer said. Jude understood that many cops had been

treated dismissively by a feeb at some point on duty. That couldve been the case


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here. It didnt help matters that feds were famous for padding their arrest reports

with busts made by beat officers.

What happened here? The younger cop with the flat nose hooked a thumb on

his belt. Headlights from passing cars reflected in his brass name badge.

Did you see them? Jude asked, flicking sidewalk dirt from the hard drive; he

touched blood droplets on his cheek.

No. Whats your story? The older officer with the bushy mustache picked his

teeth while he spoke.

They broke into my place.

And they were after that . . . computer part? The cop pointed at the hard drive

that Jude held in his hands.

The other cop muttered, Thats why youre playing tackle here on Columbus?

Jude filled them in on the break-in at his apartment and the subsequent chase.

The uniforms looked to be weighing his tale as one version of the story. The

younger cop opened a leather-bound notepad and scratched down notes. While the

officer wrote, Jude removed his cell phone and speed-dialed his colleague, Niles

Tully. Jude told Niles to come to his apartment and hung up.

The older officer said, And thats your profession . . . cyber work at the

bureau?

Jude nodded. The cop holding his wallet checked his Stanford magnetic

clearance card.

Why do you carry a Stanford access card? the cop asked, stroking his

mustache.

I consult for them.

And you work at the FBI?


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Im on call at Stanforda few hours a weekfor a special project.

The two cops exchanged glances. Doing?

Grid computing. Jude avoided elaborating on his role in the genomics

initiative. What? Dont I look like a workaholic? Jude tapped the hard drive. You

want a description of the thief, right?

The cop with the pad filled his page.

After a quick ride up the hill in the squad car, the three of them trod through

Judes hallway. The mustached cop gathered loose paper from the floor, leafed

through them.

Arent you going to have a team dust for latents? Jude asked.

Youve got your computer equipment now, right. Can you prove they got

anything else? Jude sighed audibly.

Then its only breaking and entering, isnt it?

Not seeing anything else missing and holding the recovered hard drive in his

hot hands, Jude knew hed have to check prints for himself. When one said to the

other, time for a code seven Jude got that they were signaling to eat and their short-

lived inspection was done. Fearing a lecture on the risks of vigilantism in North

Beach, Jude led the officers to the door.

After locking the door behind the cops, Jude blew debris from the hard drive

with a can of compressed air and slid it into the drive bay. Then he navigated to

drive F to check for damage. With relief, he saw the files. The pounding in his chest

slowed, but he couldnt forget that whoever instigated this had dangerous ideas and

an elaborate plan of operation.


29/33


He went to the kitchen, pulled a bag out of the freezer and rubbed Birds Eye

frozen corn on his still raw, throbbing cheek. Moving to the bathroom mirror, he

stared at scrapes from road burn that textured one side of his face.

Jude straightened things to cool down. While gathering his concert tickets,

Wiredmagazines, auto insurance papers and bank statements off his living room

floor, he realized a folder of business documents that had been resting on his desk

were gonethe documents that pertained to the Google deal. His nerves shot up

again. It took months of negotiations to strike the Google deal. He considered

calling in a stolen property claim. But the Stanford team had taken an oath of

secrecy about the Google deal, so he didnt.

If Judes team proved they could genetically diagnose disease over the Internet,

using the Grid, they would forever change drug treatment; most of the public knew

this.

What Stanford hadnt made public was how their impending deal with Google

would connect the Grid to Googles world databases. This would extend Stanfords

reach to millions of new electronic patient records for free in exchange for online

advertising.

The Google deal had been shrouded in secrecy since the initial negotiations

because it threatened conventional medicine, the biggest industry in the world.

Such medicine relied on blockbuster drugs, one-size-fits-all treatments.

Blockbusters earned the pharmaceutical industry $234 billion annually. This new

partnership would change the pharmaceutical landscape overnightcustom-

tailored drugs could now be made very cheaply. Well aware that this relationship

would cause a ripple effect across industries, the P.R. teams at Google and Stanford


30/33


had recommended a big bang announcement with no leaks that give lobbyists

forewarning.

The Stanford team wanted to be tactful about how they announced that

custom-tailored drugs could be made very cheaply. Jude had planned on delicately

breaking the news at his award ceremony without mentioning Google.

The days where corporations had total control over healthcare could be ending.

The Grid even had promise for curing cancer, but the initiative wasnt water tight.

The company heads of Googleplex were ready. Not only had they organized the

worlds printed information, but they could query medical records on the flyand

not just view-only records but live data.

Jude text messaged Kate again, in Kentucky telling her what had happened.

Setting down his phone, he opened the fridge door and transferred chicken leftovers

onto a stoneware plate.

With a chicken leg in hand, Jude heard a knock. After peering through the peep

hole in the door, he unlocked it. Niles, Judes Grid partner, charged in, smelling of

cigarette smoke. In a navy pea coat, dress white pants and white bucks, he looked

as if the British Navy had left port without him.

Niles slammed the door. Jude locked it behind him.

Niles studied Jude like he was a caged animal. Your face doesnt look too

good.

Jude moved to the living room. Niles followed him, looking at the papers,

strewn.

Youre more scattered than a Jackson Pollack painting. Niles said with his

Oxford English accent, snatching paper from the floor. What happened? Niles took


31/33


the corner club chair, removed a foil-covered mint from his pea-coat pocket,

unwrapped it and popped it in his mouth.

Jude sat on the sofa. They were after my hard drive.

Blimey. Niles looked around again. Did you see the tosser?

I saw them all right, but not clearly.

So, there was more than one. Dont tell me they got away.

There was only one person in my apartment, and someone came along later

who helped the thief take off. But they didnt get my drive. Jude touched his cheek.

What they did get was the Google papers.

What?

I suppose they went for whatever they could get.

Niles got up and walked slowly around the place, staring at the floor.

Damn it! So, now what? Youll get your bureau on this, right? Ply that job of

yours. Niles said.

Jude looked at him, unamused. He knew that Niles resented his leaving Stanford

for the FBI. Niles felt that he had abandoned the project. It looked that way, but

Niles shouldve known better. No one was more indispensible to Stanfords genomic

project than Jude. Officially Jude had changed jobs, yes, but Stanford held onto him

as their go-to man for algorithm fixes. They had no choice. Judes code was

embedded in the Grid.

Niles refused to accept that Judes bureau job benefitted their old team at

Stanford. But it did. Working at the bureau let Jude study electronic surveillance so

he could safeguard the Grid against hackers.


32/33


Losing data about patients would destroy public trusttorpedoing the entire

medical effort. Jude had become a white-hat hacka hired coder who stopped

black-hat attacks.

He recalled how the term hacker originated in the 1950s when a boy called Joe

Engressia, who was born blind, developed perfect pitch as a result. Being able to

precisely match a tone of any frequency through singing or whistling, he discovered

at eight years of age that the U.S. long-distance telephone exchanges responded to

special frequency tones. The hacker idea came when he saw that the 2600Hz idle

tone signaled a toll free call. He mimicked that frequency by whistling which

connected his long-distance call at no charge.

Intruders could have wanted Judes hard drive to obtain access to the Grid. But

that wouldnt have helped. Jude carried his key fob in his right front pocket. It held

the Grid access key. The key displayed a number that changed every thirty seconds

in sync with the Grid serverenabling Grid access. He may have been cavalier

about his clothes and car, but not about cryptographic procedure.

Maybe your secret agent business wont be a waste, after all, Niles quipped.

Theres gratitude.

Well call Hideo in the morning. Tell him about the leak. See what he can do to

protect the Google deal. Niles said.

I doubt well reach him. After Switzerland, he was flying to Japan.

Right. Today he gave that funding speech at CERN with Jurgen. Wonder how

much money that will raise? Regardless, were going to find who nicked these

papers.

Im glad youre confident, Jude said.

Listen, Im knackered.


33/33


Youre calling it a night?

Were not going to run through every angle on this thing at a bar. Not at

midnight. We go at this tomorrow or on Monday, all right? After you get started, call

me. And keep that head clear. No bevies.

You are giving a homily on abstinence? Wheres my recorder?

Judes face brightened with an idea. You working on the boat tomorrow?

Yes.

Ill meet you at the marina. We can get a sail in before Kate arrives.

Niles buttoned his coat, considering it. Okay.

Niles started for the door. Usual time. And Jude, whoever these low lifes are,

theyre not going to shut us down.

Not over my dead body.

Like you say, healthcares in a quagmire and weve got a duty to see this

through. But I might reconsider that if I dont get seven hours of sleep. Niles closed

the door.

GRIDLOCK by Alvin Ziegler, First Four Chapters

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Transcript of GRIDLOCK by Alvin Ziegler, First Four Chapters