“A lot,” said Brodie.
Dixon stepped aside and they walked in. She asked her guests, “Coffee? Tea? Bleach?”
“We’re good,” said Brodie.
They entered her living room, which was decorated in a distinctive paranoid schizophrenic style—the walls were covered in printouts of computer code, schematics for the D-17s and the Vault bays, and scattered handwritten notes on multicolored Post-its. The only things missing were pushpins and string.
Dixon said, by way of explanation, “We are not allowed to move anything off the lab computers, even to an external drive. This is my workaround.”
Taylor pointed out, “You’re confined here because you violated that very rule.”
Dixon shrugged. “There’s a first time for everything. I did that out of desperation.” She added, “I had no idea Klasky was monitoring the network. Bastard.”
Brodie would have told her not to speak ill of the dead, but he had a feeling she wasn’t caught up. He walked to the wall facing the couch and surveyed the printouts and notes hanging next to the TV. “What file did you transfer, and to whom?”
“I sent the encrypted Praetorian code to a trusted and brilliant colleague at DARPA.” She added, “I couldn’t crack it myself.”
“We think someone else already did.”
“Who?”
Brodie exchanged a look with Taylor, then said, “We have reason to believe that a member of the scientific research team here at Camp Hayden is responsible for installing Praetorian and is part of a larger conspiracy.”
“And you think it’s me.”
“We don’t know who it is,” said Taylor. “Only that it’s a short list.”
Dixon rolled her eyes. “Tell you what. If it is me, I already know what you know, so it does no harm to tell me. And if it isn’t me, I can help you.”
That wasn’t airtight logic, but it wasn’t bad. Brodie said, “We need access to a computer.”
“With internet?”
“No.”
“That’s easy. I have my laptop.”
Taylor said, “We thought no one was allowed personal electronic devices.”
“You think I can’t slip a laptop past a couple of MPs? But it’s of limited utility, since there’s no Wi-Fi on base and no ethernet connectivity at the residences.”
Brodie said, “Please get it.”
Dixon left the room. Taylor gestured to the papered-over wall. “What do you make of that?”
“I’m impressed,” said Brodie. “Most people who say they’re working from home just watch TV and jerk off.”
“Gross.”
Dixon returned with her laptop and set it on the coffee table. “Now what?”
Brodie sat on the couch and inserted the USB thumb drive. “There’s a text file on this we need you to look at.”
Dixon dropped onto the couch next to Brodie while Taylor sat in a nearby chair. Dixon opened her computer and typed in a password, then opened the volume and the .txt file.
She was silent a moment. Then she asked, “Where did you get this?”
“A hole in the ground,” said Brodie.
