Michael Crichton - Binary
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BINARY
MICHAEL CRICHTON
writing as
JOHN LANGE
ARROW
John Lange is the nom de plume of Michael Crichton who is the bestselling author of Jurassic Park and
Rising Sun.
He was born in Chicago in 1942 and was educated at Harvard College and the Harvard Medical
School. He has written works of both fiction and non-fiction, and has directed films including the movie
version of his own The Great Train Robbery.
He lives in California.
For jasper johns
whose preoccupations
provided solutions
First published 1972
57910864
(r) John Lange 1972
The right of JohnLange to be identified as the
author of this work has been asserted by him in
accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents
Act, 1988
ISBN 0 09 931%1 6
Scanned in Great Britain by
'gutbag'
BINARY: any system composed of two interacting elements. As in binary stars, binary numbers, binary
gases, etc.
Chemical agents lend themselves to covert use in sabotage against which it is exceedingly difficult to
visualize any really effective defence . . . I will not dwell upon this use of CBS because, as one pursues
the possibilities of such covert uses, one discovers that the scenarios resemble that in which the
components of a nuclear weapon are smuggled into New York City and assembled in the basement of
the Empire State Building.
In other words, once the possibility is recognized to exist, about all that one can do is worry about it.
Dr Ivan L. Bennett, _7r testifying before the
Subcommittee on National Security Policy and Scientific Developments, November 20, 1969
This book was written before it became too embarrassing for the Republican Party to hold its 1972
convention in San Diego, and I preferred not to follow the convention to Miami Beach.
John Lange
PROLOGUE
BETA SCENARIO
The facts are these:
1. On August 22nd, 1972, seven men flew into Salt Lake International Airport, Salt Lake City, Utah.
The men came from Las Vegas, Chicago, Dallas, and New York. All seven men have been identified;
they all have connexions with organized crime. Thus far four have been picked up for questioning and
their testimony provides the major portion of this report.
Each man was first contacted in his home city by an anonymous telephone call. They were each paid a
thousand dollars in cash to do an unspecified job. All they knew in advance was that the job would take
forty-eight hours, and that they must bring heavy boots and dark, warm clothing. Each was given an
assumed name which he was to use for the duration of the job.
The men arrived in Salt Lake between noon and four PM local time. They were met separately. When
all had arrived, they were transported in a 1968 white Plymouth sedan outside the city.
The trip out from Salt Lake was made in total silence. After an hour of travel they arrived in Ramrock,
Utah, a town of 407 persons located in the north-central region of the state.
2. The men remained in Ramrock until nightfall, staying in a one-storey wood frame house previously
rented by an unknown party. While in the house, the seven men wore surgical rubber gloves so that no
fingerprints could be recovered. The men changed into their dark heavy clothing in the house, and
received
instructions on their job from the leader, a man identified only as `Jones'. Jones is described as a
heavyset muscular man with a broken nose and greying hair. Positive identification has not yet been made
of this person.
3. Jones told the assembled men that they were going to steal a quantity of insecticide from a train. He
told them that he had not personally planned the theft, that it had been worked out by someone else.
They believed this when they heard the plans. Although not formally educated, these men had a
well-developed sense of personality and they all agree that Jones, who was described by one as a
`drill-sergeant type', lacked the acumen to formulate the plans.
4. The plans were remarkable for their detail. For example, the men were told that the train would be
travelling at 35 mph, according to Department of Transportation regulations covering shipment of
dangerous cargo. The men were told the timetable the train would follow from its point of origin in
Dugway Proving Grounds, Utah, through the state. The men were told of the existence of impedance trip
sensors in the rails, and were instructed in relay timing mechanisms involved. They were told that the
insecticide would be stored in 500-pound canisters of two varieties - one kind painted yellow, the other
black. They were told that they must steal one yellow canister and one black canister. Two yellows or
two blacks would not do.
Equally important is what the men were not told. They were not told that the train would be guarded.
This is an important point. I2 means either that plans were drawn up for the robbery one month before
-when there were no guards on the trains - or else that the presence of the guards was known by the
planners; who elected not to inform the men. This point is still in debate.
The men were also not told why they were stealing the insecticide in the first place. Significantly, none of
them asked. Apparently it was a matter of total indifference to them.
5. They remained in the wood frame house in Ramrock until 8 rns. Then each man was issued a machine
gun and a pistol. The machine guns were of the usual variety, that is, war surplus equipment sold with
plugged barrels. Some other party had simply machined new barrels and replaced the original plugged
barrels (cf Memorandum 245/779: Abuses of War Surplus Weaponry). The men then climbed aboard a
Land Rover which was stored in the garage of the house. It had apparently been there waiting for some
weeks, because it was dusty. They drove off into the desert to meet the train.
6. They arrived at an unnamed site in northeast Utah shortly after 2 Am. They carried out their
preparations quickly and efficiently in the light of a full moon.
One man was sent down the tracks until he found the impedance trip sensor. He blocked the mechanism
of this sensor by attaching an electronic override device. Thus no one knew for six hours that the train
had been stopped farther up the tracks; it was assumed that the trip sensor had broken down.
Meanwhile four other men walked across the sand towards a half-dozen cattle grazing nearby. The
robbery site was minimal rangeland and had been chosen specifically because of this. The men shot the
steer nearest the tracks. The other cattle ran off at the sound of the shot.
The men looped ropes around the dead steer and dragged it across the railroad tracks. The animal was
doused with gasoline and a timing device was attached to it.
Then all seven men climbed aboard the Land Rover and rode it to a nearby hiding place behind some
low dunes. They waited approximately fifteen minutes before the train appeared in the distance. The men
were surprised to see that it was a government train consisting of three flatcars lettered US
GOVERNMENT PROPERTY on the sides. They were also surprised to see an armoured caboose at
the end of the train.
7. The engine slowed, apparently as the engineer sighted the obstacle across the tracks. When the train
stopped, the timing device caused the dead steer to burst into flames. At that moment six of the men ran
forward, intending to remove the canisters. There was some scattered firing from the armoured caboose.
One man ran up to it, stuck his machine gun into an armoured port, and delivered a-burst of fire to the
interior. All five soldiers (and one physician) inside the caboose were killed. The engineer was also killed
a few moments later.
8. The men unloaded two canisters from the train, one black and one yellow. Each was marked with
lettering so vivid that the men remembered it well; stencilled warnings to the effect that the canisters
contained highly dangerous chemicals.
They carried the canisters across the desert to a flat location nearby. They set them down 100 yards
apart and burned a red flare near each.
9. Two or three minutes passed, and then two helicopters appeared over the horizon. The helicopters
landed in tandem alongside the flares. They were commercial helicopters of a nondescript nature. The
only unusual aspect was that each had been fitted with a nylon web sling to hold a canister. The men
loaded the canisters onto the slings. The helicopters lifted off again into the night.
10. The men returned to the Land Rover and drove back to Salt Lake City, arriving at 6 not on the
morning of August 23rd, 1972. Over the next eighteen hours they flew out of the city to their points of
origin. None had any knowledge of what happened to the canisters. None had any knowledge of the true
contents of the canisters.
It is clear from the foregoing that these seven underworld figures were engaged in an activity closely
approximating the BAND Corporation `Analog Scenario'sequence called CB W Beta. These scenarios
were prepared in the fall of 1965 for the Department of Defence (Command and Control). They
considered the options and ramifications of theft of thermonuclear bomb components and chemlbiol
agents.
Beta Scenario treated the possibility that a relatively small number of men, either criminal figures or
political extremists, might steal these materials for blackmail, sabotage, or terrorist purposes. The
consequences of theft were considered uniformly disastrous. Therefore the scenario outlined ways to
prevent this occurrence.
The chief preventive mechanism was deemed secrecy in transport schedules and methods. That is, the
thieves would not know where, or when, the material was being shipped. As a result of the Beta
Scenario conclusions, timetables for shipment were established by a closed-code computer mechanism
operating from a table of random numbers. That mechanism was regarded as foolproof and unbreakable.
However, it is obvious that these seven men received instructions derived from breaking the timetable. It
is not known how the timetable was broken, enabling the men to easily, almost effortlessly, steal one
half-ton of the most potent nerve gas in the world.
HOUR 12
LOS ANGELES
5 AM PDT
The grey government sedan was waiting in a deserted corner of Los Angeles International Airport. Seen
from the air, it cast a long shadow across the concrete runway in the pale morning light. He watched the
sedan as his helicopter descended and landed a short distance from the car.
The driver came running up, bent over beneath the spinning blades, and opened the door. A gust of
warm, dry August air swirled into the interior of the helicopter.
`Mr Graves?'
`That's right.'
`Come with me please.'
Graves got out, carrying his briefcase, and walked to the car. He climbed into the back seat and they
drove off away from the runway towards the freeway.
`Do you know where we're going?' Graves asked.
The driver consulted a clipboard. `One-oh-onethree-one Washington, Culver City, I have.'
`I think that's right.' Graves settled back in the seat. California numbering: he'd never get used to it. It
was as bad as a zip code. He opened his early edition of The New York Times and tried to read it. He
had tried on the helicopter but had found it impossible to concentrate. He assumed that was because of
the noise. And the distractions: when they passed over San Clemente, halfway between Los Angeles and
San Diego, he had been craning his neck, peering out the window like an ordinary tourist. The President
was there now, had been for the last week.
He looked at the headlines: trouble in the UN, arguments in the German parliament about the mark,
Britain and France squabbling . . . He put the paper aside and stared out the window at Los Angeles, flat
and bleak in the early morning light.
`Good trip, sir?' the driver asked. It was perfectly said - no inflection, no prying, just detached polite
interest. The driver didn't know who Graves was. He didn't know where he had come from. He didn't
know what his business was. All the driver knew was that Graves was important enough to have a
government helicopter fly him in and a government sedan pick him up.
`Fine, thanks.' Graves smiled, staring out the window. In fact the trip had been horrible. Phelps had
called him just an hour before and asked him to come up and give a briefing on Wright. That was the way
Phelps worked - everything was a crisis, there were no routine activities. It was typical that Phelps hadn't
bothered to let Graves know beforehand that he was even in Los Angeles.
Although on reflection, Graves knew he should have expected that. With the Republican Convention in
San Diego, all the activity of the country had shifted from Washington to the West Coast. The President
was in the Western White House in San Clemente; the Convention was eighty miles to the south; and
Phelps -what would Phelps do? Obviously, relocate discreetly in the nearest large city, which was Los
Angeles. As Graves considered it, Los Angeles became the inevitable choice.
Phelps needed the telephone lines for data transmission. It was as simple as that. LA was the third
largest city in America, and it would have plenty of telephone lines that the Department of State
(Intelligence Division) could take over on short notice. It was inevitable.
`Here we are, sir,' the driver said, pulling over to the kerb. He got out and opened the door for Graves.
`Am I to wait for you, sir?'
`Yes, I think so.'
`Very good, sir.'
Graves paused and looked up at the building. It was a rather ordinary four-storey office building in an
area of Los Angeles that seemed almost a slum. The building, not particularly new, was outstandingly
ugly. And the paint was flaking away from the facade.
Graves walked up the steps and entered the lobby. As he went through the doors he looked at his
watch. It was exactly 5 .ins. Phelps was waiting for him in the deserted lobby. Phelps wore a lightweight
glen-plaid suit and a worried expression. He shook hands with Graves and said, `How was your flight?'
His voice echoed slightly in the lobby.
`Fine,' Graves said.
They walked to the elevators, passing the groundfloor offices, which seemed mostly devoted to a bank.
`Like this place?' Phelps said.
`Not much.'
`It was the best we could find on short notice,' he said.
A guard with a sign-in book stood in front of the elevators. Graves let Phelps sign first; then he took the
pen and wrote his name, his authorization, and the time. He saw that Decker and Venn were already
there:
They got into the elevator and pressed the button for the third floor. `Decker and Venn are already
here,' Phelps said.
`I saw.'
Phelps nodded and smiled, as much as he ever smiled. `I keep forgetting about you and your powers of
observation.'
`I keep forgetting about you, too,' Graves said.
Phelps ignored the remark. `I've. planned two meetings for today,' he said. `You've got the briefing in an
hour - Wilson, Peckham, and a couple of others. But I think you should hear about Sigma Station first.'
`All right,' Graves said. He didn't know what the hell Phelps was talking about, but he wasn't going to
give him the satisfaction of asking.
They got off at the third floor and walked past some peeling posters of Milan and Tahiti and through a
small typing pool, the desks now deserted, the typewriters neatly covered.
`What is this place?' Graves said.
`Travel agency,' Phelps said. `They went out of business but they had a lot of -'
`Telephone lines.'
`Yes. We took over the floor.'
`How long you planning to stay?' Graves asked. There was an edge to his voice that he didn't bother to
conceal. Phelps knew how he felt about the Department.
`Just, through the Convention,' Phelps said, with elaborate innocence. `What did you think?'
`I thought it might be permanent.'
`Good Lord, no. Why would we do a thing like that?'
`I can't imagine,' Graves said.
Past the typing pool they came to a section of private offices. The walls were painted an institutional
beige. It reminded Graves of a prison, or a hospital. No wonder the travel agency went out of business,
he thought.
`I know how you feel,' Phelps said.
`Do you?' Graves asked.
`Yes. You're . . . ambivalent about the section.'
`I'm ambivalent about the domestic activities.'
`We all are,' Phelps said. He said it easily, in the smooth, oil-on-the-waters manner that he had
perfected. And his father before him. Phelps' father had been an under-secretary of state during the
Roosevelt administration. Phelps himself was a product of the Dalton School, Andover, Yale, and
Harvard Law School. If he sat still, ivy would sprout from his ears. But he never sat still.
`How do you find San Diego?' he asked, walking along with his maddeningly springy step.
`Boring and hot.'
Phelps sighed. `Don't blame me. I didn't choose it.'
Graves did not reply. They continued down a corridor and came upon a guard, who nodded to Phelps.
`Good morning, Mr Phelps.' And to Graves: `Good morning, sir.' Phelps flashed his pink card; so did
Graves. The guard allowed them to pass farther down the corridor past a large banner that read FIRST
CWS SERVICE ON COACH.
`You've got a guard already,' Graves said.
`There's a lot of expensive equipment to look after,' Phelps said. They made a right turn and entered a
conference room.
There were just four of them: Graves; Phelps, looking springy and alert as he greeted everyone; Decker,
who was thin and dark, intense-looking; and Venn, who was nearly fifty, greying, sloppy in his dress.
Graves had never met Decker or Venn before, but he knew they were both scientists. They were too
academic and too uncomfortable to be anything else.
Phelps ran the meeting. `This is John Graves, who is the world's foremost expert on John Wright.' He
smiled slightly. `Mr Graves has plenty of background, so you can speak as technically as you want.
Decker, why don't you begin.'
Decker cleared his throat and opened a briefcase in front of him, removing a sheaf of computer printout.
He slipped through the green pages as he spoke. `I've been working in Special Projects Division for the
last six months,' he said. `I was assigned to establish redundancy programmes on certain limited-access
files so that we could check call-up locations to these data banks, which are mostly located in Arlington
Hall in Washington.'
He paused and glanced at Graves to see if the information was making sense. Graves nodded.
`The problem is basically one of access-line proliferation. A data bank is just a collection of information
stored on magnetic tape drums. It can be anywhere in the country. To get information out of it, you need
to hook into the main computer with an access substation. That can also be anywhere in the country.
Every major data bank has a large number of access substations. For limited or special-purpose access -
stations that need to draw out information once or twice a week, let's say - we employ commercial
telephone lines; we don't have our own lines. To tie in to a peripheral computer substation, you telephone
a call number and hook your phone up to the computer terminal. That's it. As long as you have a
half-duplex or full-duplex telephone line, you're in business.'
Graves nodded. `How is the call number coded?'
`We'll come to that,' Decker said, looking at Venn. `For now, we'll concentrate on the system. Some of
the major data banks, like the ones held by Defence, may have five hundred or a thousand access lines.
A year ago, Wilkens' congressional committee started to worry about unauthorized tapping into those
access lines. In theory, a bright boy who knew computers could tap into the system and call out any
information he wanted from the data banks. He could get all sorts of classified information.'
Decker sighed. `So I was hired to install redundancy checks on the system. Echo checks, bit additions,
that sort of thing. My job was to make sure we could verify which stations drew out information from the
data banks, and what information they drew. I finished that work a month ago.'
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BINARY MICHAELCRICHTONwritingasJOHNLANGE ARROW JohnLangeisthenomdeplumeofMichaelCrichtonwhoisthebestsellingauthorofJurassicParkandRisingSun. HewasborninChicagoin1942andwaseducatedatHarvardCollegeandtheHarvardMedicalSchool.Hehaswrittenworksofbothfictionandnon-fiction,andhasdirectedfilmsincludingthem...
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分类：外语学习
价格：5.9玖币
属性：126 页
大小：219.62KB
格式：PDF
时间：2024-12-22
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