The Leviathan Effect Read Online Free PDF Page A

still in the process of evaluating exactly what it means. We are unable to say with certainty at this time who is responsible or what the motive is behind these threats.”
    “The breach, you mean,” Blaine said.
    Easton raised one eyebrow. The lamplight glinted for a moment in his left eye, catching the deep blue pigment.
    “The
breach
is part of a pattern,” Blaine said.
    “Well, yes. But more importantly, the message.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “That’s why you’re here.” Watching her, Easton took a prolonged breath. He was known for using silence as an assertive tactic, to underline a point. “Do you have any idea why you might have been singled out as the recipient of this email, Secretary Blaine?”
    Blaine looked to DeVries. “Well, let’s see. I suppose being the Secretary of Homeland Security may have had something to do with it.”
    “This was made to look as if it came from your son, Easton said.”
    “Yes.”
    “I assume your son does not have your classified address?”
    “You assume correctly.”
    “What does this mean? ‘ES’?”
    “Eastern Shore. We’re planning to go to the Eastern Shore together this weekend. He was reminding me.”
    He continued looking at her as if she hadn’t spoken, and Blaine felt a current of apprehension course through her, thinking about Kevin again, the fact that the perpetrator knew his abbreviations.
    She told him the rest of it, the meanings of the other abbreviations, and she answered his questions about when and how often she used her mobile device, feeling as if she were being interrogated by a schoolteacher who suspected her of cheating on a homework assignment.
    “Are you familiar with the name Janus, Secretary Blaine?”
    “Vaguely, yes.”
    “Are you aware of the significance of the three dates listed in the message?”
    “I am now. I looked them up on the way here. Three natural disasters. In Bangladesh, Uruguay and Fiji. Tsunami, hurricane, and earthquakes.”
    “Correct.”
    “Of course, anyone could have Googled those dates the same way I did.”
    Easton stared at her blankly, as if he’d forgotten who she was.
    Blaine said, “I’m assuming the concern here is that our internal classified communications network was compromised, right? Not the message itself, which I’m assuming is a prank.” She looked at Easton, then DeVries, neither of whom revealed anything. “Right?”
    “That would be a reasonable assumption,” Easton said. Sliding his palms against each other. “Based on what you know.”
    “Okay.”
    Blaine felt something shift in the room.
    “Based on the available evidence, however, I’m afraid we’re not able to treat it that way.”
    DeVries seemed to sense her restlessness. “We’re going to explain all this, Cate,” he said. “That’s why we’re here.”
    Easton cleared his throat. “As I said, the message you received is part of a pattern.”
    “Ongoing, you said.”
    “Correct. Similar messages were sent to my classified email account. To Director DeVries’. And to the president’s.”

FOUR
    C LARK E ASTON OPENED THE folder in front of him. His thick arms, with their dense curlicues of gray and white hair, cast shadows on the walls of the rectangular room.
    There were several sheets of paper in the folder, she saw. He lifted the top one, turned it around and slid it across the mahogany table to Blaine.
    “The president has authorized me to share these with you.”
    “All right.”
    Blaine felt a little numb all of a sudden, straightening the sheet of paper in front of her. It was a printout of an email dated September 29. Last Thursday. Three days ago. A message sent to the secure inbox of the man sitting opposite her—Harold DeVries, the Director of National Intelligence.
    The sender was identified as RET: Robert Ellis Thompkins, the director of the CIA.
    The subject line: CATCHING UP . The two men were, almost by the nature of their job descriptions, frequently at odds with one