They both climbed into the back seat. The driver pulled into the D.C. traffic and whisked them to the Pentagon. Wyl’s stomach trembled. It’s showtime.
CHAPTER THREE
The driver stopped at the Pentagon entrance and turned to them.
“Major Sterling. Doctor Bonner. I am Agent Travers. I will escort you back to the hotel after your meeting concludes. Enjoy your visit to the Pentagon, sirs.”
“Thank you, Travers.” Wyl gave a salute to the driver.
A security station and four walk-through metal detectors painted a stark welcome inside. The left wall included a mural of an unfurled American Flag against an azure sky. The right wall sported photos, with the President at the top and high-ranking military officials below. The rear wall included a painted vignette highlighting the various branches of the military.
“Welcome, gentlemen,” the guard at the desk greeted them. “May I ask the reason for your visit?”
“Major Wyl Sterling and Dr. Rod Bonner at the request of General Steinburg,” Wyl said.
The guard checked his list and found their names.
"Sirs, may I have your I.D.s?”
Wyl and Rod presented their driver licenses.
The guard glanced at Rod. “Your license is in the name of Roderic Felix Bonner Sterling. I have Dr. Rod Bonner on my list.”
“Yes, sir,” Rod said. “My Ph.D. and educational credentials are in the name of Roderic Felix Bonner. I changed my name to Roderic Felix Bonner Sterling in February. My government issued I.D.s reflect the surname of Sterling.”
The guard accessed Rod’s record in the database and noted the information was as Rod mentioned. “Thank you, sir.” The guard handed back their I.D.s and directed them through the security checkpoint.
“Your badges, gentlemen.” The guard placed a badge for each of them on the counter. “Wear these at all times when in this facility. The badges also act as keys, giving you access to the areas you are authorized to enter. One of my men will escort you to General Steinburg’s office.”
Another guard appeared. “Gentlemen, please follow me.”
Wyl and Rod clipped the badges on their suit coats. They followed the second guard as he led them down bland corridor after corridor, each unadorned and lit with bright white, fluorescent light. Only the finished oak doorways broke the monotony. They arrived at the general’s office. The guard opened the door and motioned them to enter. He saluted and closed the door behind them.
A young soldier stood from his desk. “Welcome, gentlemen. I am Corporal Duggins, General Steinburg’s secretary. The general is expecting you. Please follow me.” He opened one of a set of heavy oak doors and led them into a roomy office with a view of D.C.
The office decor presented a marked difference from the stark hallways. The rich walnut furnishings sat atop a thick red-white-and-blue checkered area rug. One end included the general’s desk. In front sat two tufted leather guest chairs, a table between. The other end included a conference table with a video conferencing system and a wet bar.
“General Steinburg, your guests have arrived,” Corporal Duggins said.
The general rose. “Major Sterling, Dr. Bonner, welcome to the Pentagon.” He came around his desk and shared a warm handshake with them. “Please, have a seat.”
“Thank you, general.” Wyl remained standing, and Rod mimicked him.
After the general took his seat, Wyl and Rod sat in the soft leather chairs.
“May I offer you coffee? Water? Soft Drink?”
Rod shook his head. “Nothing for me, thank you, general.”
“Nothing for me either, sir,” Wyl said.
General Steinburg nodded. "I’ll get right to the point. First, you are married, and Dr. Bonner took the Sterling surname. I am okay with your marriage, and in fact, I applaud you two for having the guts to follow your hearts. This country would be in much better shape without so much paranoia and misinformation. I want you both to understand your relationship is not an issue. In fact, it's partly the reason you're here, Dr. Bonner. Please forgive me for addressing you in this manner, but your doctorate is in the name of Bonner. For the purposes of this discussion, we need your credentials as well as your relationship with Major Sterling.”
“General, if I may, I am comfortable with either title,” Rod said.
"Excellent.” General Steinburg made a note on his pad. “May I call you Rod?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And may I call you Wyl?”
“Yes, sir,” Wyl nodded.
“Gentlemen, we have a situation, and we need your help. Each of you plays an important role in this mission.”
Tentacles of worry wrapped around Wyl’s gut at this mission. He and Rod faced something complicated and dangerous.
The general eyed them both. “The top-ranking official of An Garda Siochána, the Irish national police force, received an alert of someone hacking into Ireland’s banking system. The government entity overseeing the Irish financial system noted the query occurred at the same moment at all banks. Individual account holders of separate banks would unlikely seek a balance inquiry at the same exact moment. Although no evidence exists of funds withdrawn, the breach proved vulnerability to the hackers. The Irish government hesitated to block bank access because of major disruption for banks and customers. They have not identified the source but narrowed the list of potential suspects to one individual. Concrete evidence connecting him to the crime or uncovering the code he used to hack the system is challenging. They need an expert in cryptography and Wyl…you are the best in the world.”
“I am, sir?” Wyl shook his head. “General, I did my job, but many cryptographers must be better qualified than me.”
The general leaned forward, arms on the table. “Major Sterling, do you remember Italy?”
The memory flooded Wyl’s mind, and he shook his head to dispel the added panic gripping his chest. Rod’s hand grabbed his shoulder and massaged. He took a deep, calming breath. “General, I’ll never forget Italy.”
“Do you know how those men found you?”
“I have no idea, General. They wanted me to break into the government database.”
