GRIDLOCK, First Four Chapters, 2011

8/7/2019 GRIDLOCK, First Four Chapters, 2011

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GRIDLOCK A Novel of SuspenseBy Alvin Ziegler


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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 breakthroughof the centuryperhaps of all time.President Bill Clinton, March 14, 2000

_____________________________________________


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FactsBiotechnology is transforming the world in unimaginable wayspromising to

extend our childrens lives by decades. Everyone has a stake. Already doctors arediagnosing disease genetically over the Internet.

The sea change in medicine came with the decoding of the human genome in2003, but it remained locked because scientists understand less than one percentof it. Some liken the difference between decoding our DNA and interpreting it to thedifference 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 hasntdelivereduntil now.

A lightning fast computer network called a grid is interpreting our DNA. It cansolve virtually any question that can be calculated. Using grid technology, scientistsare creating custom drugs to treat diseases like cancer that are as individual as afingerprint instead of the one-size-fits all approach. Such breakthroughs couldredefine the business of healthcare and reshape global economies forever.

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


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Actual Timeline of the Genome

Four BillionYears Ago

The precursor to DNA is thought to be createdby the aggregation of simple molecules in theprimordial swamp that existed on earth at thattime.

1850s Gregor Mendel , the father of moderngenetics establishes the principles of geneticinheritance by studying pea plants.

1900 Thomas Hunt Morgan, American geneticistdiscovers the basics of dominant and recessivetraits and links on a chromosome. Awarded theNobel Prize.

1950

1953

Barbara McClintock, the worlds mostdistinguished cytogeneticist, determines thatchromosomes exchange information byjumping genes.

James Watson and Francis Crick ascertain thestructure of DNA.

April 2003 The Human Genome Project, a full map of ourgenetic code, is completed for $2.7 billion inthirteen years.

December 2005

The Cancer Genome Atlasa three-year, $100million pilot project to explore the geneticconnectionto cancerlaunches.

May 2007 James Watson's whole genome is sequenced ata cost of less than $1 million dollars.

September 2007

Craig Venter publishes the results of his ownsequenced genome.

October 2009

IBM announces plans to bring the cost of DNAsequencing to as low as $100, making apersonal genome cheaper than a ticket to aBroadway play.


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prologue

Friday, October 28Meyrin, Switzerland

Jrgen rushed from his apartment at 9:45 A.M., tightening his watch strap. TheMercedes limousine purred at the curb. He climbed into the backseat and squeakedinto leather seats.

Lets go, Jrgen 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 thatextended to the Savoy Alps in France. Cloud wisps swirled over the water. Throughthe mylar glass, he glimpsed blonde hair beneath the drivers cap.

Wheres Adrian? Jrgen asked through the limo partition.Out sick.

This was no day for bumbling around in the twenty-six cantons of Switzerland.You do know the way to CERN?

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

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


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flown from around the world to visit CERNsome would be annoyed to find thatMeyrin was only a glorified agricultural village.

Jrgen wouldnt let Dr. Onagi bore them today. No. The Grid network would bethe show stopper.

He checked the closeness of his shave.When the BlackBerry in his suit coat vibrated, he scanned Tatianas missive: Im

wearing Escada 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 him

after his speech at CERN. She helped him unwind with sexual role-play. He textmessaged a reply: Meet me @ Zermatt airport, British Airways, Gate 14, term 2, 4PM J . Tonight they would meet at a chateau high in the Alps where he would starin her Russian seductress game.

Jrgen had picked up Tatiana at a Geneva club two weeks back. He didnt knowyet how long hed keep hergirlfriend shelf life ran five weeks tops.

Shrouded by tinted glass, he reclined against the headrest. As the limo cut alongthe highway, Jrgen envisioned Tatianas lips working his chest. The blare of a truckhorn pulled him back to reality.

Looking through the rear window again, his eye caught the Bernese AlpineValley. He hammered on the glass divide. Driver.

There is construction, Sir, the chauffeur said sternly. Were making a detour. Jrgens watch read ten-thirty. Dont make me late.Im taking a shortcut.

The driver veered the limo off the highway. Jrgens hands went clammy; hisclaustrophobia had surfaced.

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 partiallypaved cow trail.

Jurgen's hands were clammy, his mouth dry. What are you doing?Without answering, the driver pressed a button in the glove compartment.

Jrgen caught that she wore an earpiece.Hey.

The driver rolled up her sleeves. We are close.Are you listening?

The hard-faced woman hunched at the wheel.Holding his BlackBerry, Jrgen 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 Jrgens car door.Out.


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Jrgen clung to the limo handle. What is this? The woman leveled a handgun at Jrgens forehead.He threw his hands high, forgetting his dreams of achievement. Easy.

The clearing had the calm of a cemetery. Watching the unblinking woman, Jrgen dropped one foot outside the car, then the other. This platinum-blonde hadthe shoulders of a competitive swimmer. Heavy make-up covered her face.

She opened the silver Mercedes trunk with the car key, revealing a coil of heavygauge fishing line and a twenty-pound gym weight.

Remove the line, the woman ordered. The weight, too.As Jrgen picked them up, a buzz came from overhead. A twin-engine planea

businessman on holiday, perhaps. If only Jrgen could call for help. His eyes sweptover the wooded lake, grasping at a way out. There were no houses within sight.

So much for 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 weight against his chest, Jrgen begged, Do you want money?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?He

said, hoping to distract her. Jerking into a standing position, he lunged, hurling the weight at the womans

moving head. The weight struck her shoulder, knocking her down. She dropped thegun and fell beside the weight.

Jrgen leapt for the gun. From the ground, she pointed the gun and fired.He moaned and went to his knees. Touching the sting on his shoulder, he gasped

at the blood between his fingers.Panic mixed with fear.

The woman returned to her feet, winded.What do you want? Jrgens voice broke.She lowered the gun. No more games. Get the weight.

Blood snaked down his arm. He crawled over dirt to the gym weight, pulled itand the fishing line toward him with one hand. Aching, he bound it around his ankle.

The woman brushed dust from her hat, gesturing for him to get up. Jrgen lumbered to his feet, checking his shoulder. Does this involve Jude

Wagner? Killing me doesnt end the medical revolution.This is a good start. Her expression darkened, and she motioned with the gun

muzzle for Jrgen to step into the lake. He hesitated then moved into the water.


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Waist deep, he stepped out of his loafers then dove under the algae-coveredsurface, struggling underwater to untie the weight. The October sun had failed towarm the icy lake. With fingers going numb, he fumbled with the fishing line. Hegasped at the surface again.

And heard a blast. In the first nanosecond he felt a sharp tap. Then he felt nopain but could no longer fill his lungs with air.

Another shot slammed into his forehead. Time stopped.Ripples spread in symmetry above his sinking head.


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one

Friday, October 28San Francisco, CA

Marveling at finding parking a block from home, Jude locked his Mazda MX6 oncrammed Russian Hill. He passed a family of five on Hyde Street exiting an ice

cream parlor. The store manager followed them out, flipping a closed sign on theglass door. The dads scoop of ice cream hit the pavement and kids shrieked withlaughter. A hazy childhood memory came to Jude while walking in the wind. Hepictured his mother carpooling him and his friends from Little League games afterthe sixth inning to the Baskin Robbins ice cream shop. She bought a hot-fudgesundae for any batter who got on base. Shed be proud that her boundary-testingson worked for the FBI. He flipped off the home movies. Kate had warned Jude thatliving alone led to brooding. As always, his sister knew him better than he knewhimself.

Head throbbing from straight bourbon, he came to the entrance of his ground-floor flat. He picked up the electric blue plastic bag containing his New York Timesreminding him how behind he was on world eventsand carried it through thefront gate to the Mediterranean-styled three-story complex. Under a trellis of rubybougainvillea, he strode brick steps to his door.

He put the key inside the lock; it cranked too easily. No resistance. The Baldwinbolt had already been turned. The idea of reporting a break-in crossed his mind, buthe couldve forgotten to lock up himself. Slowly he pushed the door open andmoved inside his narrow place. The ceiling spotlights in the hallway had beenswitched on.

Had he turned them off when hed left that morning? Crossing the living room,he made a fist. He regretted not grabbing his service weapon from under his bed onthe way outa new agent blunder.

The bookcase had been emptied. Mystery paperbacks, San Francisco historybooks and rock concert ticket stubs decorated the floor. Papers he kept stacked onthe rice chest-turned-coffee table were now strewn on the oriental rug.


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Maybe the intruder hadnt left. He listened for creaks in the floor. Except forgusts lashing at the windows, he heard nothingnot even a fog horn.

Lightly, he stepped to the kitchen with the oversized rail-station-style clockhanging on the wall. Open cupboard drawers showed rearranged boxes of pastanoodles and chips. In the bedroom, his Chinese dresser doors were ajar. Shirts, suitsand a high school wrestling trophy lay on the floor. In the mini-study, he checked hisdesktop computer. The drive bay gaped hollow and dark, the hard drive missing.While Jude usually backed up everything daily, he had failed to do so after abreakthrough he had made earlier that day.

Cursing to himself, he heard the scuffling of hard-soled shoes from the fronthallway. Jude peered around the corner. A man in a suit and gloves kicked open thecloset door, then raced outside the flat.

Jude barreled into night air which howled off the bay, then moved down thetreacherous grade of Filbert Street. Across the gulch, Coit Tower glowed, a beacon

in the dark. The wide man bobbed in his flapping suit jacket. Practiced at navigating the

decline, Jude pursued, tapping down the steps. As the street leveled, he locked onhis subject, advancing on his strides. Judes latest Grid work was stored on that harddrive.

They plowed past stucco apartments and into North Beach. Jude clipped byWashington Square Park and a closed coffee store. Six feet behind the man, Judelunged and brought him down outside a pizzeria. While on the ground, the mangripped the hard drive. With one knee on him, Jude pulled the mans arms behindhim when a white Ranger screeched to the curb and waited.

Call the cops, some voice from the restaurant shouted.Im a Federal agent, Jude said.

The man turned over, breaking free. Jude snagged his leg, sending him to thesidewalk. The hard drive dropped to the ground. Jude grabbed it before he wasslugged in the abdomen.

Elbows tucked, he held the hard drive close. He tried to fend off the assailant,thrashing about until he was rammed in the kneesthat sent him palms and facedown onto the pavement.


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two

Friday, October 28Meyrin, Switzerland

Alone on the observation deck, Hideo Onagi felt his heart thump. The sound of adoor closing carried from the distance. Noise travelled easily in this all whitechamber, three hundred feet underground, beneath the Franco-Swiss border. Thiswas where the famous collider operated. He stared glassy-eyed at the bottom of acavernous, two-story room at the most expensive scientific experiment in history.Below, a sort of subway platform served as a maintenance station to the monorailthat traveled along a twenty-seven kilometer circumference.

His stomach churned. Family turmoil and the gravity of this presentation had setoff Hideos ulcer. Once this was over, he'd fly to meet his estranged wife. He flipped

through 3x5 note cards, reviewing his talking points. Returning the cards to hispocket, 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 hispocket.

Hideos attendees arrived, gawking at girders and struts which supported thehigh-ceilinged space. The time had come for him to show off the scientificbreakthrough that took decades to build.

Two dozen board members and financial officers from the worlds largesthospitals and universities had jetted from around the globe to this vast lab insecluded 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 was strewn with great discoveries facedby cold indifference before they were embraced. That couldnt happen here. Hideohad given up his private practice to join Stanford and change medical history. Delayof action on this genome project could cost tens of thousands of lives. The time hadcome for him to show off.


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As a bioinformatacist, Hideo was an ace. He'd once owned a diagnosticscompany. But his area of molecular biology involved computer science, artificialintelligence and chemistrynot physics. Where was Jrgen? He was Life ScienceDirector of CERN. These were his contacts. Jrgen said hed handle the walking-tourpart of the presentation. Hideo used his phone to fire off an unusually direct textmessage. WHERE ARE YOU?

Jrgen represented the Stanford University side of things, but it looked like Hideowas going to have to fill in for him. These strangers would render a pass-fail verdicton work that had consumed him for years. At the trial of his life, he was minus hisexpert witness .

He flushed with embarrassment as the consortiumhuddled together like a miniUnited Nationsstared at him. They had come to hear a scholarly revelation abouthow CERN would change medicine. Hopefully, hed deliver. First, they had to seewhat 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 herecould build another Eiffel Tower. On the wall beneath the pipe, exotic instrumentsflashed.

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 Centigradecolderthan deep space. Hideo thought a moment, then said, This nine-billion-dollarunderground linear accelerator was designed to smash protons to analyze the bigquestions of the big bang, cosmologyohand unified theory. Superconductingmagnets are used to guide protons into a massive collision for observation.

A fat man interrupted, looking at the tube above. Wait, how does that relateThats coming. Scientists wouldnt have gotten anywhere without a big enough

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

They 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 singlevirtual machine. This Grid analyzes the equivalent of thirteen million DVDs worth of information that the particle collision produces.

A lady with a severe face, dressed in black: What does this do for healthcare?Medical chiefs knew less than he had expected. Hideo spoke with tension in his

voice. Were repurposing this world computer to analyze the human genomethetotal hereditary content of an individual. It holds four billion years of information on


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humanity, the ultimate human recipe book. Thats why youre here, to see how yourdollars can mine the genome, the greatest discovery in scientific history.Interpreting the genome enables us to diagnose every disease. You see, the Gridwill change society as the Internet did; it will not only crunch diagnoses, but willanswer anything that involves calculating, no matter how complex.

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

The severe-faced lady pointed skeptically at the flashing instruments. This ishow youll change medicine?

Let me explain. CERNs physicists built the Grid to handle questions that areexponentially more complex than any computer systems could handle before.Conveniently, the Grid runs over the World Wide Webwhich CERN also invented toanalyze atom-smashing results.

A technician entered the room below and powered up some electrical equipment.

Hideo raised his voice to speak over the burring noise, The Grid also powersStanford 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 helpthe general public?

Im getting to that. The severe woman said, So Jude Wagner isnt speaking today? Jude served as the spark, providing vital computer code to accelerate the Grid.

He had achieved international acclaim for his computer discovery and would soonreceive the Turing Award from the Association for Computing Machinery.

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. Jrgen 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 hisphone. No messages.

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

he motioned for everyone to get comfortable at the rosewood table. Bottles of Evianwater 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-searingdivorce. His daughters face flashed before him. He moved across the conferenceroom to get back to his performance. Jrgens absence had thrown him off.

Okay. The question from earlier was how this Grid partnership with Stanfordwas going to help the public.


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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. Weretapping 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 startand 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 cancerannually in the U.S. alone who are being lumped together with treatment thatignores 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? The severe lady asked.Once we identify an individuals genome, a world of information becomes

available to us: a persons body chemistry, his predispositions, his susceptibilities,and his strengths and weaknesses on a molecular level.

Hideo took a deep breath. As youll find in your brochure, the Stanford Projectworks like this: a patient has his genome sequenced by a company like 23andMebased in the San Francisco Bay Areathis costs around one thousand dollars. Theresults would come back on two DVDs to the patient and his doctor. That doctorcould then log onto Stanfords secured website to access the Grid. The Grid wouldcompare the genomic data from those DVDs against millions of other online medicalrecords, 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 powerfulthing.

The audience had gone dead silent.Can you back up? A man with Scottish accent asked. Where do those patient

records come from?Good question. For years, medical researchers struggled with doing statistical

analysis. Hospitals, doctors offices and pharmacies used disparate computernetworks, blocking access to medical records. Vital information couldnt beaccessed.

Finally, research hospitals started a movement to get the data online. Andsecurity systems were designed which topped that of the ATM business. Of course,


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even putting anonymous medical information online was controversial. Everyonefeared 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 andhospital account numbers were made anonymous. While this happened, the searchengines of the world connected that pooled information to create a great dataset.

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

Already, at Stanford, were diagnosing volunteers illnesses through comparison,using their DNA. The Grid matches molecular information from tumors with exactlythe right drug to suppress that tumor. To treat each cancer patient individuallymeans heavy analysis. The computer power of the Grid makes it possible. Withregards to cancer, we fight mutations with custom-made proteins that conform tothat persons body chemistry.

Some heads nodded subtly.

A Persian man asked, Is there someone from CERN who is assigned to thisStanford Project?

I shouldve mentioned, Jrgen Hansen, CERNs Director of Life Sciences, is theliaison between this lab and Stanfords. He maintains the physical Internetconnection which links this Grid to Stanford.

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

Hideo stood tall to elongate his short stature. Exactly. Thats the point here.Were also in the business of democratizing medicine; making the costly partresearch 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 thepacket youll see how this Grid at CERN relies on distributed processing power fromvolunteers.

I see doubt. Believe me, all we need are the resources. Isnt fighting cancer asworthy a mission as landing spacecraft on Mars? If we dont push medicine forward,1500 Americans will go on dying from cancer every day.

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 makesense 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 ponder, but the Stanford/CERN partnership is testing a non-

profit alternative to our existing universal healthcare, and we need your support.


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Brochures were being opened when an elderly man in the front raised his hand.Excuse me but what exactly would our endowment money accomplish?

To Hideos relief, eyes tracked him as he circled the table. Your investment willpay employee salaries to build Stanfords online service. Your dollars will guaranteewe have processing power from places like CERN. That investment will also extendour Grid to every home PCrunning like a worldwide databasebringingsupercomputing power to desktops, virtually. Well have one enormous virtualsuper computerthe same way researchers from 25 countries analyzed thecollision of particles here through a Grid of institutions and universities around theworld. And, yes, well need specially trained pharmacists to mix the customizeddrugs.

The room went quiet. After fielding another dozen questions, an assistantwearing a tie and short sleeves entered the room with a remote control in hand. Hewaited in the corner. 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 explained that the CERN representative

here would play a film about computational biology and field questions about CERN. Then Hideo thanked everyone.

But nothing from Jrgen. Something had to be wrong.Still, Jrgens 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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three

Friday, October 28San Francisco, CA

A patrol cars P.A. chirp signaled cars to move. As the cruiser rounded the cornerthe attacker released Jude, ran to Rover and roared off.

A voice from above hollered, On your feet.Flat on the sidewalk, Jude was dreaming of high school wrestling practicea timewhen grappling was sport and so was getting the girl. That faded when his eyescracked open to two cops and a bystander. Nothing academic about the threeheads silhouetted against the night sky. Wrestling was just a dry run for the realthing. The older cop with a bushy mustache stared coldly.

Judes head pounded. Im with the FBI.No response. Two cops stood silent. Jude got up and took a step forward.Hold it, the officer with the mustache said. Jude was treating these cops too

cavalierly. In training, he'd learned that many cops on duty reported being treated

dismissively by feebs. And it didnt help matters that feds were famous for paddingtheir arrest reports with busts made by beat officers.

The bystander must have lost interest. He receded into the pedestrian traffic.What happened? The youthful cop asked, hooking a thumb on his belt. He had

the scrutinizing glare of a baseball umpire. Headlights from passing cars reflected inhis brass name plate above his midnight blue shirt pocket.

Did you see them? Jude asked, wiping sidewalk dirt from the hard drive; hetouched blood droplets on his cheek.

No. Just stick to our questions. The mustached officer said with lips creasedtight.

The guy was some kind of trained professional.He was after that . . . computer part? The cop pointed at the hard drive that

Jude held in his hands. The umpire cop muttered, Thats why youre playing tackle here on Columbus? Jude explained the break-in at his apartment and the subsequent chase. The

uniformed men weighed his account. The younger cop opened a leather-bound


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notepad and scratched notes. While he wrote, Jude removed his cell phone andspeed-dialed his colleague, Niles Tully, to tell him to come by his apartment.

Jude hung up as the older officer said, And thats your profession . . . cyber workat the bureau?

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

Why do you carry Stanford business cards? the cop asked, stroking hismustache.

I did some special work for them. Jude avoided elaborating on his role in the genomics initiative.And you work at the FBI?Im a new field agent.

The policemen exchanged glances. Doing?Electronic surveillance, Grid computing.

Jude tapped the hard drive. Dont I look like a workaholic? You want adescription of the thief, right?

The umpire cop with the pad earnestly 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, leafedthrough 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 to the futility of this exercise.Then its only breaking and entering, isnt it?Not seeing anything else missing, and holding the recovered hard drive in his

hands, Jude knew hed have to check prints for himself. The cops appeared ready togive a lecture on the risks of vigilantism in North Beach. So when Jude heard thewords, time for a code seven, he appreciated that they were signaling to eat, andtheir short-lived inspection was done. Just as well. Jude showed the officers to thedoor.

Locking it behind the police, Jude took stock of things. The cost of losing Grid data was incalculable. So much was at stake. He looked at

his hands. His nails were chewed to the quick. He quit the habit of nail biting yearsago after reading that such impulsive behavior represented a cognitive dissonance,an imbalance between mind and body. Generally, he left ideas like this and Easternphilosophy to his sister, but the notion didnt sound far-fetched. Bold and decisive toan acquaintance, Judes exterior belied his inner tension. His bitten fingernailsoffered a glimpse under the hood. For a moment, he considered how hed grown

jaded by the worlds trials and misfortunes, as if nothingfrom natural disasters to


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suicide bombers and al qaedawould gall him. But this home invasion rattled hispsyche, directing his thoughts to security.

He made himself turn his attention back to his hard drive and ransacked livingroom. Moving to his computer desk, he got to work. He blew debris from the harddrive with a can of compressed air and slid it into the drive bay. Then he navigatedto drive F to check for damage. With relief, he saw the files. The pounding in hischest slowed, but he couldnt forget that whoever instigated this had dangerousideas and an elaborate plan of operation.

He went to the kitchen, pulled a bag out of the freezer, and rubbed Birds Eyefrozen corn on his still raw, throbbing cheek. Moving to the bathroom mirror, hestared at scrapes from road burn that textured one side of his face.

Jude straightened things to cool down from alert mode to a normal state.Gathering his concert tickets, Wired magazines, and auto insurance papers off hisliving room floor, he realized a folder of business documents that had been resting

on his desk were gonedocuments that pertained to the Google deal. His nervesshot up again. It took months of negotiations to strike this deal and it would impactthe pharmaceutical landscape overnight. He could call in a stolen property claim buthe had taken an oath of secrecy.

The impending partnerships with Google would connect the Grid to Googlesworld databases. These databases possessed phenomenal power: holding most of the worlds printed information, they enabled users to query medical data on thefly. This would extend Stanfords reach to millions of pages of medical data for freein exchange for online advertising.

Jude text messaged Kate again in Kentucky, telling her what had happened. Hedfill her in on the details tomorrow once her plane got in. Setting down his phone, heopened the fridge door and transferred chicken leftovers onto a stoneware plate.

With a chicken leg in hand, he heard a knock. After peering through the peephole 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, itappeared the British Navy had left port without him.

Niles slammed the door. Jude locked it behind him.Your face doesnt look so good, Niles said.

They moved to the living room while Niles took in the papers, strewn.

Youre more disheveled than a Jackson Pollack painting. Niles said with hisOxford English accent, snatching paper from the floor. What happened? Niles tookthe corner club chair, removed a foil-covered mint from his pea-coat pocket,unwrapped it, and popped it in his mouth.

Jude refrained from sitting. He was after my hard drive.Did you get a look at this guy, I mean a real look?


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I saw him, but not clearly. This guy was a walking oak tree with stubbled, blondhair and a paramilitary way. He came ready for trouble. Jude grasped to recallmore but came up short.

Niles squinted with dismay.I found him in my apartment and chased him all the way to Columbus to recover

my drive. Jude touched his cheek. I got the drive and he got the Google papers.Damn it, Jude.

Jude glared. He was coiled tight without Niless judgmental tone, but he resistedthe urge to fire back at his one ally.

Niles said, Maybe your being in that new office of yours can help.Niles harbored resentment that Jude left Stanford for the FBI. But Jude had not

abandoned the project. In fact, Judes algorithm was embedded into the Grid, andthe FBI job allowed him to study electronic surveillance so that he could help Nilessafeguard the Grid against hackers.

Losing patient data would ruin public trusttorpedoing the entire medical effort. Jude had become a white-hat hacka hired coder who curtailed black-hat attacks.

Most quants knew the term hacker originated in the 1950s when a boy called JoeEngressia, who was born blind, developed perfect pitch as a result. Being able toprecisely match a tone of any frequency through singing or whistling, he discoveredat eight years of age that the U.S. long-distance telephone exchanges responded tospecial frequency tones. He mimicked that frequency by whistling, which connectedhis long-distance call at no charge.

An intruder could have wanted Judes hard drive to obtain access to the Grid. Butthat wouldnt have helped. He carried his key fob in his right front pocket. It heldthe Grid access key. The key displayed a number that changed every thirty secondsin sync with the Grid serverenabling Grid access. Jude may have been cavalierabout his clothes and car, but not about cryptographic procedure.

Maybe your detective work wont be a waste, after all, Niles quipped.Theres gratitude for you.Well contact 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.Thats right. Today he gave that funding speech at CERN with Jrgen. Wonder

how much that raised. Either way, were going to find who nicked these papers.Im glad youre feeling confident. Jude said.Niles yawned and stretched his arms.Youre going to sleep?Were not going to run through every angle on this thing at a bar. Not at this

hour. We go at this tomorrow. Once you get into this, call me. Keep that head clear,you hear me. No boozing.


21/21

Jude rolled his eyes. Wind bellowed through his metal-lined chimney, then hisface brightened with an idea. You working on the boat tomorrow?

Yes.Ill meet you at the marina. We can sail before Kate arrives.Niles buttoned his coat, considering it. Okay.Niles started for the door. Usual time. And Jude, whoever dared to try to bring us

down, hes not going to succeed at this. Were not going to let him.Not over my dead body.

GRIDLOCK, First Four Chapters, 2011

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Transcript of GRIDLOCK, First Four Chapters, 2011