Chapter 11
The Rear Admiral William Murdoch, Jr. looked around the holosurface, to make sure all was ready before the final briefing with the Pentagon. He was standing with the US Marines battalion commander, the chiefs of air and naval operations, and the head of the fleet cyber security. They were buried three decks below the hangars, in the communications room of the USS Abraham Lincoln, which was cruising in the Mediterranean Sea, twenty miles off the Italian coast.
At exactly 5 o’clock in the morning of Saturday, April 7th, the holograms from Washington materialized on the far end of the table, while its surface got covered with icons of all the meeting files. William Murdoch immediately recognized the Secretary of Defense, the National Security Advisor and Skip Ross, the chief of national intelligence and former CIA director.
“Strange enough,” William thought, “there is no representative from the Department of State. Yet we might have to deal with two states at once, Italy and the Vatican. It does not look good.”
The Secretary of Defense opened the discussion.
“Alright, Bill, we went through your plan in the worst case scenario, and the Pope’s life is endangered. You are asking us tough questions.”
“I am, Sir, but my Navy servicemen and the Marines we have on board need crystal clear rules. I am sure you understand.”
“We do,” the Secretary of Defense replied. “Basically, you are authorized to move the Marines as soon as you see the development of a clear and direct danger to the Pope’s life. Like, for example, terrorists seizing the opportunity to attack the Vatican while Italian security forces are busy controlling the protest. We have warned the Italian authorities. You can fly in up to three assault helicopters with associated troops, so in other words a full company. We think no air coverage is needed, as the Italian Air Force is patrolling the skies and Rome is a no-fly-zone for now.”
“This is clear,” Bill replied, “Are we authorized to open fire, if need be?”
“Not without prior authorization from us,” this time it was the National Security Advisor who spoke, “and certainly not on Italian security forces.”
“Under no circumstances? Not even if our Marines’ lives are at risk? Are you sure about this?”
Bill Murdoch felt obligated to challenge the authorities in the name of his people, before accepting any deals. The National Security Advisor balked. “Well, in general, yes. Then we will see how things develop. That’s why we need to stay in constant contact.”
“What if communications fail?” Bill thought. He had barely contemplated the option when Skip Ross chimed in, as if he had read his mind.
“You should not worry about that; we are using the war satellite links. On the ground, all the service providers opened their data center to our probes, so we control each and every bit of Internet traffic that flows in and out of Rome. You can also see in real time our latest crowd monitoring application.”
The image of Skip turned toward the US Navy cybersecurity officer, who nodded in agreement. Bill Murdoch looked at his other aides, waiting for further comments, but nobody spoke up.
“I think we are done here,” the rear admiral concluded, “hopefully it will only be a very long day.”
About two hours later, at 7.30 in the morning, Valerio approached the St. Anne Gate of the Vatican. An Italian police armored vehicle stood in front of the entrance, the policemen tried to stop him for a check but the voice of a Vatican guards officer interrupted them.
“You can let him pass, we are waiting for him,” the officer said. He then invited Valerio to follow, grabbing his right arm and rushing past the gate into the Vatican. They did not stop at the entrance booth to record his visit but went all the way up along the Tower and turned right toward the pharmacy. Just in front of it, they entered a fascist-style building and walked downstairs. Valerio could barely read on a plate next to the door that it was the Telecom office building.
The man kept walking him corridor after corridor, then he suddenly realized he had not introduced himself. “I beg your pardon, my name is Rudolph Schempp, I am the deputy commander of the Swiss Guards. I have received instructions from Monsignor Salvemini to take you to the control room. He will join you there shortly.”
“The control room?” Valerio repeated in disbelief, “You mean, like the NASA ones?”
“Oh, much better than that,” his host replied, as he checked the retina scanner.
Valerio and his guest entered a room full of screens. On one wall on the left, there was the usual set of security camera feeds. The central wall was the most interesting. Valerio looked at some of the screens, then he turned towards his guard.
“Can I talk to the operators?”
“Sure,” Rudolph laughed back, “we have no secrets here!”
Valerio approached one of the ten operators that were running the system using their goggles and touchpads, all dressed in spotless white shirts with black ties. He wondered if they belonged to some religious order, but refrained from asking and got to the point.
“Hi, good morning, my name is Valerio. This is the social media probes, correct? What data set are you using? How much lag do you have?”
“Hi, unfortunately I cannot give you my real name but you can call me Renato,” the operator answered. “We call the system ‘Guardian Angel’, to help prevent threats. Basically, all internet providers are feeding us a copy of their traffic. We have more than six million devices under our control, as you can see from the diagram people are now chatting in small groups. That’s basically how they came up to Rome. Average group size is fifteen, roughly four hundred thousand communities. We have about three thousand big sources with more than one thousand subscribers, counting all the main media sites, like Facebook. This we monitor to make sure uncontrolled news does not spread panic or rage.”
“Any suspicious groups?” Valerio was looking at the blinking red column on the far side.
“Just about one hundred. We are ready to cut them off as soon as we notice any threat.”
“Pretty damn professional,” Valerio complimented, looking toward Monsignor Salvemini, who in return smiled cheerfully.
“You see? We are trying to help Providence with a little prevention. In case something goes wrong, we can alert security forces and at least gain some time.”
“Well, I hope Providence does not feel like she’s losing her job,” Valerio replied sarcastically. “She might resent it. Are we going to meet the Pope here?”
“No, we will go to the Apartments,” Monsignor Salvemini replied. “We are scheduled in His Holiness’ agenda between one and two o’clock. After we make sure the situation is under control. And by the way we are not replacing Providence at all, just providing Her with some new tools.”