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In a dark room under the Chrysler building in New York city, a group of CIA operatives sat at their desk looking through files of eaves dropped information on their Computer screens. A task that had become boring over the last few months after 911. As boring as the job was, Jim Erickson knew that his job was vital to the people of the United States. It was his duty to be the watchdog over the safety of the country and prevent any terrorist acts from happening on US soil again. Jim's PC screen had taken on a knew and puzzling look over the last few weeks and many of his co-workers did not know what to make of it. Just a bunch of numbers in a column going through a sequence. The numbers had been encrypted from a unknown source and every time they attempted to track the source it would lead to Chicago and then go blank.

It was an election year and terrorist could strike at any moment in the United States. It seemed to be their calling card in disrupting the presidential candidates. The terrorist took great pleasure in sending the United States information on which candidate they were going to support. Most of the time it was the weakest of the two they put their money on. It was a way for the terrorist to manipulate the voting system we had in place. Still it was unnerving, but all leads had to be checked out when accusations had been made by terrorist group. Charles Hyden had been a en cryptic code breaker for six years and usually worked at the Pentagon in Washington D.C. Charles had come to New York as a courier to talk with Jim about the world wide web espionage the Russians were trying out on Georgia and thought that the numbers Jim and his crew had been keeping record of might have Russian Mafia ties. The Russians had been successful in hacking into the Georgia governments main frame and cause all kinds of economy woes. It was a total disruption of the Georgia government's web based infrastructure. Charles thought that the numbers may be a undercover attack testing the United States web based systems.

In a pizza store on fifth street, just blocks away from the water front in Chicago a man sat in a booth. He was waiting for his pizza and pitcher of draft beer to be deliverd to his table. His cell phone rang two times before he could get it out of it's holder. Hello, what can I do for you today he asked the person on the phone. His eyes widened as he listen to the instructions coming from the person on the phone. The waitress arrived at the table with the man's

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