The Singularity Race (24 page)

“Isn't this supposed to be automatic?” she asked.

“Yes.” Mullins stared at the keypad. He remembered they were on lockdown. “Wait here.”

He checked Brentwood and found him breathing in quick short gasps. The wounded man held both hands across his stomach. His eyes were closed.

Mullins bent to his ear. “Robert?”

Brentwood's eyelids fluttered a second and then opened. He turned his head, searching for Mullins.

“Ned?” he whispered.

“He's dead. So is Felicia. We're going to get you help.”

“No. I've nothing more to live for.”

“Robert, we're trapped down here. Tell us the code and we'll all get out.”

Mullins heard footsteps and looked up to see Li with Peter. The boy's eyes were wide and wet. His Washington Nationals cap was askew and he clutched the Asimov book in both hands.

Brentwood followed Mullins' gaze. “Peter. Well done.”

Peter was terrified at the sight of the bleeding man. He managed a whispered, “Thank you.”

“You keep that book safe,” Brentwood said in short bursts of breath. “I'm leaving you in charge.”

“I will. I promise.”

Brentwood's eyes lost focus for a second, and then he rallied. “You need to get out. The code is pi.”

“How many decimal points?” Li asked

“Seven,” Brentwood whispered. “May I have a large container of coffee?”

Li smiled. “Clever.”

“Pie and coffee?” Mullins asked.

“The number for pi,” Lisa said. “P. I. The words give you the individual numbers. 3.1415926.”

“Then you and Peter need to go now. Kayli and Josh are in the elevator.”

“What about you and Robert?”

“We have unfinished business. Now go!”

Li didn't argue. She grabbed Peter's arm and pulled him with her.

“Mr. Mullins, please come,” the boy cried.

“I'll be up soon. Take care of Josh. He's scared.”

Mullins watched the elevator door close behind them. Then he heard the motor hum.

He turned back to Brentwood. Most of the color had gone from his face.

“The others…” Mullins said. “They're here, aren't they?”

Brentwood's tongue flickered across his lips. “Yes.”

“The code's the same?”

“Yes, I cared for them. No one was harmed.”

Brentwood's voice was so weak Mullins could barely hear him.

“I want to follow Apollo. Let me be.” He raised one bloody hand and touched Mullins' cheek. “I was not my father.”

“I know, Robert. You like to blow bubbles.”

Brentwood dropped his hand back to his stomach, then closed his eyes.

“May I have a large container of coffee?” Mullins repeated the sentence in his head as he bent low and ran through the thickening smoke to the door Li had shown him on the building schematic. He found the keypad and repeated each word as he punched in the corresponding digit. The door opened. Seven people rushed out, coughing as they came.

“Follow me,” he said. “There's no fire down here. Just keep low.”

Mullins led them to the elevator. Several gasped as they swung around the bodies of Farino, Felicia, Brentwood and Jenkins. On the console, the burner phone rang. The President would have to wait.

Mullins urged everyone into the elevator. He thought he recognized the two professors from Boston. The last person in was a young woman, pale and thin.

She stood beside him. As the elevator rose, she said, “Thank you, Rusty.”

The upper floor wasn't the chaotic nightmare Mullins feared. The rows and rows of the black monolithic processors were dark, although a few still flashed sporadically with arcing electricity. The group made it only halfway to Brentwood's lobby when a team of FBI agents intercepted them. Lindsay Boyce was in the lead.

“What's the status below?” she asked.

“Secure,” Mullins said. “You'll find three bodies and Brentwood in critical condition. Get a medevac fast. I have a feeling the lid of classification is going to clamp down on this scene so fast we'll all be told we were never here.”

“A helicopter's bringing Hauser, if that's any clue.”

“What took you so long?”

“The whole damn communication structure went down. Everything was paralyzed.” She gestured to the expanse of dormant processors. “Anything to do with this?”

“Everything to do with this. But, remember, we were never here.” Mullins walked on.

He stepped out into the morning sun. FBI and Secret Service personnel had their weapons drawn. Then an order came for everyone to stand down. Mullins found Kayli, Josh, Li, and Peter by the guard station. All four ran to him. Each boy hugged a leg. Kayli threw her arms around him while Li watched through tears of relief.

“Okay. Don't injure me,” Mullins said. “I'm going to find someone to take you away from here. Probably to a hotel in Asheville.”

He scanned the parking lot. A black Tahoe came racing up the road. Mullins recognized Sam Dawkins behind the wheel. Beside him rode Allen Woodson.

The vehicle had barely stopped before Woodson jumped clear.

Mullins turned Kayli around.

Josh had already seen him. “Daddy,” he cried.

The three ran to each other. Mullins hoped what Josh had witnessed below would be driven out by the unexpected sight of his father.

Mullins felt Li slip her hand into his. With his free hand, he straightened the cap on Peter's head.

A solitary woman walked toward them. She stopped and waited ten feet away from the Woodson family.

“Allen,” Mullins shouted.

His son-in-law looked at him and Mullins pointed to the woman who'd spoken in the elevator.

Mullins was a master of reading faces, but even a novice could see the pure joy explode across the features of the brother and sister.

Woodson could manage only one word. “Kim.”

Chapter Thirty-four

The meeting took place the following night a few minutes after eleven. Dawkins stopped outside the door to the Oval Office. Mullins was beside him. He'd been brought in with the same secrecy some Presidents had used for smuggling their mistresses into the White House. The summons hadn't surprised Mullins. In fact, he welcomed it.

The events of the previous morning had created a global uproar of panic and confusion. The roughly thirty minutes of cyber disruption had left governments and financial markets in shock. Fortunately, the restoration had come quickly. None of the world's major powers dared admit that their military defenses had been compromised. The coverup couldn't have been more complete than if a UFO actually had landed in Roswell, New Mexico, in 1947. That was already the prevalent explanation among conspiracy theorists. The Esperanto message had been from an alien mothership.

The American government's line was that a series of system failures had allowed an experimental computer program to be temporarily propagated beyond its proper domain. It had inadvertently crossed over into financial markets and communication networks. The program was benign and had been nullified before data was either destroyed or improperly accessed.

In the President's news conference, he had actually said the incident might have been a blessing in disguise because it highlighted some areas of vulnerability that a malicious attack could have exploited. Those areas were already being addressed. He said with a laugh that the only lasting consequence of the incident was an increased interest in Esperanto.

All the participants in Brentwood's Apollo project were kept far away from the press. The news report released on the North Carolina research lab stated an electrical fire had broken out and that three employees had perished. The time of the fire was shifted six hours later to discourage any perceived connection between the two events.

Mullins had thought the stories were about the best that could be quickly concocted under the circumstances. He knew experts wouldn't buy it, but Apollo had been so effective there might not be any trail for an expert to follow.

Two real questions were in play. Would Robert Brentwood survive and what then? And what would happen to the scientists Mullins had rescued? They couldn't simply walk into their university or corporate laboratories like they were returning from a four-year lunch.

“Good luck, Nails,” Dawkins said.

“Are you going to have to wait around to sneak me out?”

“Yeah. I'm afraid Orca's labeled me your keeper. Given your track record, I've got the most dangerous assignment in the service.”

“This is my swan song, Sam. You can rest easy.” Mullins looked at the door. “Shall we?”

Dawkins knocked and both men waited. Mullins tightened the knot in his tie. He wore his one dark suit that was pressed.

“Come in,” Brighton shouted.

Dawkins opened the door. “Go get him, Nails.”

The President stood in front of his desk. He had a glass of liquor in his hand. His white shirt sleeves were rolled to the elbows and his tie lay across the back of his desk chair.

Brighton wasn't trying to look busy or important. He looked tired. He stepped forward and handed Mullins the drink. “I believe you like Scotch.”

Mullins took it.

“You're overdressed, Rusty. Did you think we were having a press conference?”

“Habit, sir. Return to my old haunts in my old clothes.”

Brighton smiled. Mullins noted it wasn't the flashy campaign smile he turned on every voter. It was a smile of a regular guy having a drink with a friend.

“Are you having one?” Mullins asked.

Brighton turned around and lifted the glass that had been behind his back. “You bet. I'd never let a man drink alone.” He waved his arm to the chairs and sofas comprising the conversation area in front of the desk. “Sit. Anywhere you're most comfortable.”

Mullins eased into the nearest chair with an end table and coaster for his glass. Brighton took a seat on the sofa opposite.

Mullins sipped the Scotch and decided a bottle must have cost as much as one of his pension checks.

“You took a hell of a chance, Rusty.”

“There was a lot at stake, sir.”

“If Hauser only told me the half of it, then you averted a disaster of incalculable consequences.”

“Like I said, a lot was at stake. And I'd made a promise to Elizabeth Lewison to find her husband's killers.” He thought about the meeting they would have and he hoped Elizabeth would find some comfort in learning justice had been done.

Brighton took a sip and rolled the liquor around his tongue before swallowing. “You know I urged you to stay out of the line of fire.”

“You did.”

“Well, goddamn it, I was wrong. And despite all our, shall I say, differences of opinion, I'm glad you're a headstrong son of a bitch.”

Mullins had to laugh. “Thank you, sir.”

“And, you know, I can't let the public know what you did for this country.”

“I'd prefer you didn't.”

Brighton leaned back and rested his glass on his pant leg. “Where do you think MacArthur was in all this?”

“From what I can extrapolate from Farino's comments, he and MacArthur planned to hijack Brentwood's super computer. One could argue that MacArthur was working in his intelligence role, but the whole covert payment for assassins to take out key scientists of allies as well as enemies undermines that argument. Farino was Brentwood's liaison to Capitol Hill and the military. I'd say the unholy alliance between MacArthur and Farino goes back at least four years to when Kim Woodson was abducted.”

“When that Professor Milton got cold feet.”

“Kim told her brother yesterday that Milton had listened to the pitch and said he was in because he was afraid to tell them no. He texted Kim to meet him, but didn't realize how sophisticated their monitoring was. The assassin whom we've now identified as Heinrich Schmidt met Kim instead and threatened to kill her unless Milton joined the team.”

“And Brentwood knew all this?”

“Yes, but in his mind he wasn't doing them any harm. He's the reason Kim was kept alive. I don't believe he knew anything about the Double H ruse and the murder of competing researchers.”

Brighton stared at his glass for a few seconds. “What do you think was the hold Farino had on Brentwood?”

“I think Farino knew Brentwood had slipped out of his mother's hospital room, gone to the apartment and faked his father's suicide. Rex Brentwood was known to be a heavy drinker. He might have been passed out and Brentwood took advantage of the circumstances.”

“And Farino saw him?”

Mullins set his glass on the coaster. “Yes. He would have destroyed Brentwood's alibi. Farino was smart enough to recognize that Brentwood was a genius. He hitched his wagon to Brentwood's star.”

Brighton shook his head. “Okay, but why kill MacArthur?”

“Brentwood saw there would be only one supreme super computer. Farino envisioned only one supreme master of this artificially intelligent being. MacArthur had served his purpose. Whether he was defending us or betraying us, we can't be certain.”

“Hauser told me you found the last payment to the assassin came from the CIA.”

“That was a smoke screen,” Mullins said. “I'm confident Farino set it up.”

“You're sure?”

“As internecine as the intelligence agencies are, I can't see the CIA paying an outside contractor to bump off the Director of the Office of Naval Intelligence.”

Brighton nodded. “But Farino wasn't in it alone. I understand there was this woman Felicia Corazón.”

“Yes. I think her betrayal really shocked Brentwood. She was quite sharp and I'm told she stayed with the scientists in their living quarters. Brentwood thought she was coordinating their efforts for him, but she was doing it for Farino. That's how they came to run those tests into the drone program. Maybe they were lovers. Maybe she was attracted to power.” Mullins picked up his glass and swirled his drink before taking a sip. “Who knows? The next person she shot might have been Farino.”

“And Dr. Li? Did they try to kill her at the Marriott?”

“I don't think so. They targeted the other two scientists for assassination. That was set up by Farino and MacArthur. But Brentwood wanted Dr. Li, and Farino didn't dare kill someone Brentwood believed crucial to his project. So, Farino saw the chance to abduct Dr. Li to North Carolina, where Brentwood would have had to keep her hidden.”

“Because he was already hiding abducted scientists.”

Mullins nodded. “Yes. Farino didn't want any attention drawn to their research. Brentwood was no longer concerned since they were so close to his goal. When the abduction failed, Farino let Brentwood's original blackmail plan go forward. But he didn't know the real reason Brentwood wanted Dr. Li.”

“To create a conscience that brought about the super computer's self-destruction.”

“Brentwood was an idealist, not a murderer.”

“And all he had over Dr. Li was that her nephew was her son?”

“Yes,” Mullins lied, “she loves her son. And she came to believe in the work Brentwood was doing. His goal was altruistic. But the quest for power doesn't bring out the best in most people, does it?”

Brighton examined Mullins, trying to determine if that was intended as an insult.

Mullins softened his words. “Look at what happened to MacArthur. He betrayed his commander-in-chief.”

“Louis or Douglas?” Brighton asked.

Mullins shrugged and downed his last swallow. “I don't know. I'm sure you know history better than I do.”

“You might not know history, but you sure as hell changed its course yesterday. Thank you.” Brighton leaned forward. The debriefing was over.

“May I ask something, sir?”

“Anything.”

“How's Brentwood?”

“He's stable. He's been transported to a military hospital?”

“Where?”

“That's classified.”

“Is his future classified as well?”

“No harm will come to him. That's all I can say.”

“What will happen to the scientists and Kim Woodson?”

“We got a wake up call yesterday, Rusty. Artificial Intelligence is real and in the wrong hands it can be as dangerous as any nuclear device in our arsenal. I'm meeting with key congressional leaders to fund and organize a crash project to develop our own program using Brentwood's people. They'll continue to stay below the radar. Kim Woodson will be given a legend that she spent four years undercover and be reintroduced into the FBI.”

“And Dr. Li?”

“She's a Chinese citizen. It's a little more delicate.”

“Her work's the reason we stopped Farino. She turned out to be the most important member of the team.”

Brighton stared at the floor and thought a few seconds. “She gave me that lecture on the Manhattan Project and what steps I'd take to see that critical brain power stayed out of foreign hands. I guess I'm now in that position with her.”

“Yes, sir. She's brilliant.”

“She's close to you, isn't she?”

“Yes. I guess you can say that.”

Brighton winked. “Then I'm ordering you to keep her in the country.”

***

The weekend after the message from the mothership, as the tabloids were still calling it, Allen Woodson, Kayli, Josh, and Mullins met Lisa Li and Peter in an Arlington park for a Saturday picnic. Hot dogs, chips, and Peter and Josh's new favorite vegetable, carrot cake, were on the menu. Woodson had brought along a plastic bat and wiffle ball, and while he took the boys out on the field for a little practice time, Mullins stayed at the table to help Kayli and Li clean up.

“I've got this, Dad,” Kayli said. “You won't be able to fit everything back in the basket anyway. Why don't you either play ball or walk off that second slice of cake?”

“I'll walk with you,” Li said.

They looped out past the third baseline toward a small knoll where benches lay scattered in the shade of hardwood trees.

“Have you thought what you're going to do next?” Mullins asked.

“I guess I'll go back to Jué Dé. I need to work. Peter will go back to China.”

He heard the catch in her voice.

“It doesn't have to be that way. You could stay here and work in Washington.”

“Doing what?”

“The President asked me to approach you with the possibility of working on his AI project. He plans to use the remaining months of his term picking up the pieces of Brentwood's research. It's very secret and involves the team Brentwood assembled. Maybe even Brentwood.” Mullins laughed. “They're all signing on voluntarily this time. The President will do everything he can to protect you and Peter. He really wants you.”

Li stopped as they stepped from the grass onto the leaves covering the ground of the wooded knoll. She turned and studied his face. “And what do you want?”

The question took him by surprise. He stuttered for a second. “Well…I…I want what you want. What's best for you and Peter.”

“What I want? Okay. I want total honesty from you. I don't want any barriers or questions unanswered between us.”

“I want you to stay.”

“And there's nothing else you feel like you need to say or ask?”

Mullins knew he'd reached a moment of truth. He read it on her face. She wouldn't be lied to.

“Go ahead, Rusty. Let me go.” Laurie's voice, his dead wife's voice, rang in his head. They hadn't talked in a while, and the clarity of her words stunned him.

Lisa Li knew something had happened. She stepped closer. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Can we sit down?”

He led her to a nearby bench. They were alone on the knoll.

“Lisa, I know what happened. I'm not the best detective in the world but I can put the pieces together. Brentwood said we were all killers, but that some of us had killed for love. I saw the way Farino looked at you when Apollo sent those power surges into his own system. And I've looked at the file regarding the date of your husband's accident and Peter's birthday. No one would make any connection between the two events unless that person knew you were Peter's mother. You were nearly five months pregnant when your husband died. Am I correct?”