Minutes earlier

As Gerald Scott piloted his chopper across the Manhattan skyline, he put on his aviator glasses to block out the glare of the late afternoon sun. His dream of becoming a full member of the Dark Angles was becoming a reality.

“Get ready back there,” Gerald said.

“I was born ready,” Seymour said.

Gerald didn’t care much for his passenger, but he had helped him get into the Dark Angels and that had to account for something.

There it is!

The windowless building gave the Manhattan skyline an eerie look, as it was the only building without a light source. As the sun dipped under the western horizon, many buildings already had their internal structures illuminated from various light sources. The building he flew toward was quite the contrast; it looked like a black hole in comparison to everything else.

They better be ready—I won’t be able to stay long.

Moments later he saw several people on the roof of the windowless monstrosity.

“Lower the rope, Seymour,” Gerald said.

Seymour untied the wench that controlled the rope and begun to lower it.

Gerald got as close as possible to the rooftop of the windowless building. He had to be careful because there were many antennas and satellite dishes on the roof, which made any expeditious extraction impossible.

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Gerald switched frequencies, trying to gauge if he had been spotted. The radio was dead.

Something must be jamming the signal.

As the engineers began climbing the ladder, Gerald heard screams. He looked out the window and one of the engineers was falling to his death.

“Someone’s shooting at us—take evasive action,” Gerald said.

“I’m on it,” Seymour said.

Seymour opened one of the back seats in the helicopter and removed a semiautomatic weapon. He checked the clip and chamber. He looked toward the rooftop for signs of an attacker.

“Eleven o’clock,” Gerald said.

Seymour started firing in the eleven o’clock position at another helicopter. Moments later, an explosion illuminated his target. Seymour helped the engineers into the helicopter.

“We have wounded,” an engineer said.

Seymour looked down. Apparently one of the engineers had been shot, and his arm no longer worked. He lowered a harness attached to a steel cable. Norris helped him into it and hoisted the kid to the helicopter.

“Thank you,” Nigel said to Seymour.

Seymour nodded.

“Norris is on the ladder—let’s get out of here,” Seymour said.

Gerald flew eastbound out of Manhattan. Moments later, Norris hoisted himself into the helicopter.

“That was too close. You should warn Titus. All hell is breaking loose in there,” Norris said.

“My radio is dead—it’s either out, or someone is jamming us,” Gerald said.

“Was the malware—or worm, as you call it—active?” Norris asked.

“It was active the minute it was uploaded. Anything that worm crawls into will be infected,” an engineer said.

“Any computer?”

“No—the worm exploits a flaw in the High Tower OS subsystem. Since most of the world’s computers use that operating system, it’s a matter of time before everything is infected.”

The radio came to life.

“What is your status, flying angel?” a male voice asked.

“Identify,” Gerald said.

“I’m the one with the cold breeze on a summer’s night.”

“Titus?”

“Affirmative.”

“Heading to the roost, one casualty.”

“Sally was taken,” Nigel said.

“Correction, one casualty and an MIA,” Gerald said.

“That’s regrettable. Damien will want to break his daughter out. I will prepare myself in case he needs persuasion on why that’s a bad idea. I’m en route via the underground,” Titus said.

“See you soon, old friend,” Gerald said.