The Singularity Race (19 page)

All three men looked at Li.

“I will make no comment about what my government may or may not have done. I'm a scientist, not a politician or an activist. They could have called me home at any time, so I find the extraction theory beyond credence.”

“Maybe,” Brighton said. “Or maybe the deviousness of the move eliminated two competitors and ensured that you would be confined exclusively to their oversight. At this point, I'm not ruling anything out.”

“Mr. President,” Mullins said, “may I suggest that you, Lieutenant Commander Woodson and I discuss potential theories in further detail while perhaps Agent Dawkins takes Dr. Li and her nephew on a behind the scenes look at the White House?”

“An excellent idea. Peter, you've been a most patient young man. Make sure Agent Dawkins gets you a treat from the kitchen.”

The President stood and everyone rose.

“Dawkins should be just outside the door.” Brighton crossed the room, cracked the door, and called for the agent. When Dawkins appeared, the President whispered a few words and then stepped aside. “All right, Peter, you and your aunt will be in good hands. And I'll be happy to answer any questions when you return.”

As soon as Li and the boy left, Brighton closed the door and pivoted. “Okay, Rusty, how much of what you said in front of her is true and how much is bullshit?”

Chapter Twenty-six

Rusty Mullins realized it was time for him to take control. He sat and gestured for the President to do the same. “Please have a seat, sir. We all have our secrets, one of which won't leave the Oval Office.”

Brighton scowled. He took the comment to be a thinly veiled threat. He glanced at Woodson, but the young naval officer stood patiently waiting for his commander-in-chief to sit.

“I'm talking about Dr. Li, Mr. President,” Mullins clarified. “She's the boy's mother, not his aunt.”

Mullins saw surprise on Brighton's face followed by confusion. The man neither knew the true relationship nor its implications. Mullins took that as a good sign.

The President moved quickly to his chair and sat on its edge. “How do you know?”

“She told me.” Mullins decided to keep Rudy Hauser and the FBI's DNA test a secret. He glanced at his son-in-law. “She doesn't know that Lieutenant Commander Woodson knows and I'd like to keep it that way.”

“So, what's the big deal about that?”

“She and her husband violated China's one-child policy. Over there it was a very big deal, and Peter would still face repercussions.”

Brighton shook his head. “But you said this was about national security. I'm sympathetic to the woman but her personal situation hardly rises to that level.”

“I agree. But I had Vice Admiral MacArthur run a DNA test for me because personal items had been stolen from Dr. Li and Peter the night of the Marriott attack. Items that provided DNA samples. I wanted to check what they might be searching for.”

“And MacArthur told you Peter's her son?”

“No. He swore the tests proved they were aunt and nephew. Dr. Li is the one who told me the truth. So, why would MacArthur lie?”

Brighton shrugged. “Bad test results.”

“I don't think so,” Mullins replied. “Not for the Director of Naval Intelligence. I think MacArthur knew that Peter is Li's son and he was trying to protect the secret, not for her sake, but for someone else.”

“Who?”

“Robert Brentwood.”

“But Li's working for him.”

“Exactly. And Robert Brentwood had the DNA items stolen from the Marriott and then he used the findings to coerce her into joining his team. She's now a willing participant and says she's happy in her work. But I'm concerned how closely MacArthur and Brentwood could have been in collusion.” Mullins leaned forward and looked Brighton straight in the eye.

“Tell me, how did you decide to give MacArthur the lead on the Marriott investigation?”

“He volunteered. He said his AI program had been monitoring the three scientists, was familiar with their work, and would have a head start.”

“And the decision to assign my son-in-law as my liaison?” Mullins asked.

“That was also his idea.” Brighton looked at Woodson. “I liked it and thought you'd appreciate it.” The President turned to Mullins. “I still don't see where this is going.”

“Lieutenant Commander Woodson witnessed MacArthur's murder,” Mullins said. “He didn't see the killer's face, but it looked like MacArthur was having a conversation with the man. It wasn't an argument and MacArthur didn't appear threatened. A split-second before he was shot, he seemed surprised.”

“Is that true?” Brighton asked Woodson.

“Yes, sir.”

“So, you're the one who ran from the scene?”

“Yes, sir.”

Mullins raised the file folder he'd brought to the meeting. “He did so to ensure this information didn't wind up in the possession of the Maryland homicide investigators.”

Brighton took it and thumbed through pages of computer code. “What is it?”

“Evidence of a stealth computer hack. Dr. Li discovered it and brought it to my attention.”

“On Brentwood?”

“By Brentwood or maybe through Brentwood. It was on the Department of Defense. Li believes the super computer accessed the codes for our drone system.”

“Jesus.” Brighton went pale. “Who knows about it?”

“The three of us, Dr. Li, and MacArthur. Allen, that is Lieutenant Commander Woodson, had just told him moments before he was shot.”

Brighton got to his feet. “Then we need to shut Brentwood down.”

“No, sir. I don't think that's the wisest course. It's possible Brentwood is also a victim and someone gained access without his knowing it. It can be done because we did it. If we shut Brentwood down, we might lose any link to the perpetrator. MacArthur might have known about the hack if he was working with Brentwood. That's why he lied about the DNA test because he knew that was leverage Brentwood had over Dr. Li.”

“Why would he let the hack happen?”

“It could have been a test that the Defense Department failed,” Mullins said. “And MacArthur could have been killed by the same group that hit the Marriott.”

“They've claimed responsibility,” Brighton said. “There was an Internet posting four hours ago.”

“And we know one of their members is in the country. We thought the target was Dr. Li, but it could have been MacArthur all along. He's a vocal supporter of AI. You see, we just have too many variables at play.”

Brighton sat back down. “Then what are you suggesting?”

Mullins leaned forward. “First, you put out the word that the sketch they're compiling of Lieutenant Commander Woodson isn't related to the case and its distribution would compromise rather than further the investigation. Rudy Hauser could move on that quickly.”

“Okay,” Brighton agreed.

“Then you order a review of MacArthur's activities over the past few months under the guise of determining whether he'd been stalked by his killer.” Mullins pointed to the file in the President's hand. “See what he was doing the night this hack occurred. And emphasize we've heard chatter that a cyber attack might be coming.”

“Done.”

“I need you to give Lieutenant Commander Woodson broad latitude to use our most sophisticated intelligence computers for backtracking the money source that went into the Zurich account funding the assassinations.”

Brighton's eyes widened. “You've gotten that far?”

“Yes, and you can't breathe a word of this, but we've been able to use Brentwood's super computer for our searches. Sir, the power it exhibits is nothing short of scary. Once we identify and neutralize this Double H threat, you'll want to have a come-to-Jesus meeting with Brentwood about his intentions.”

“Can you keep using this super computer without his knowledge?” the President asked.

“We hope so, but the situation is very fluid. That's why we need to get Dr. Li back into his operation so we're working it from the inside. We're going to his Fairfax lab tomorrow, but we might not have the opportunities we had before.”

“I'm not comfortable knowing our intel and cyber defense are so vulnerable.”

“I understand. But we need to play this out for a few more days. I do have a request. I'd like security to and from Brentwood's lab and a safe house. MacArthur's killer might not be done yet. And although my son-in-law didn't see the shooter, our killer might have seen him.”

“Dawkins and I have already worked that out. And I understand you requested protection for your daughter and grandson.”

“Yes, sir. Right now we're trying to locate them.”

Woodson paled. “They're missing?”

“They're not home and Kayli's not answering her phone.”

Woodson jumped to his feet. “Then I need to find them.” He turned to the President. “Sir, I need to see them in spite of your order.”

“What order?” Brighton asked.

“Vice Admiral MacArthur said you didn't want any one to know I was here.”

The President frowned. “I gave no such order. MacArthur must have had his own reasons.”

Mullins looked at Woodson. The words he'd spoken to his son-in-law on Chimney Rock rang in his head anew. “If no one knows you're here, then no one will know if suddenly you're not here.”

“I'll notify the FBI,” Brighton said. “We'll find them.”

Mullins glanced at his watch. “If I may, sir, I'd like to suggest that Lieutenant Commander Woodson be waiting outside the Oval Office when Agent Dawkins returns with Dr. Li and Peter.”

“Why?” Brighton asked.

“Because I told Dr. Li I was only going to tell you her actual relationship to the boy. Technically, that's true because at the time of my promise Lieutenant Commander Woodson already knew. I'm afraid the more people she thinks are aware of that fact the more anxious she'll be. We need her focusing on how Brentwood's computer hacked into the Defense Department and who was behind it.”

Brighton nodded and turned to Woodson. “I'm authorizing you to investigate all of our cyber security systems.”

Woodson frowned. “Mr. President, I don't have the background to make the proper assessments.”

“I understand. I just want you to look for patterns of increased hacking attempts—where they're occurring and whatever origins we can determine. It's really an exercise to give you clearance into what MacArthur might have been doing the past few months. I want to know if he initiated any new protocols or initiatives, especially around the time of the breach into our drone codes.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I'll draw up the necessary authorization. And you'll report directly to me. I'll make that clear to my Chief of Staff.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now I think we should follow your father-in-law's advice and have you wait outside.”

The President and Mullins remained seated and Woodson let himself out.

When the door had closed, Brighton stood and started pacing. “What a goddamned mess.”

“You're right,” Mullins agreed. “And the uncertainty of MacArthur's agenda means we don't know how far it might reach into his command. We need to tread carefully.”

Brighton stopped and threw up his hands. “But along what path?”

“Do you want my advice?”

Brighton gave a humorless laugh. “Why not? You're probably the only person inside the beltway who's not trying to kiss or kick my ass.”

“Have a confidential meeting with Rudy Hauser. Use the FBI as your investigative resource if Woodson uncovers anything. That way you'll stay clear of the Defense Department. I have complete confidence in Rudy and can contact him directly.”

Brighton paused and wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. Mullins suspected the President was calculating that Rudy Hauser was already Mullins' confidante. But, if so, Brighton made no accusation.

“Okay. But, Rusty, I can't sit on this for long. You and Dr. Li are the only ones claiming the hack has occurred. If that's true and I didn't launch a full-scale investigation in response, Capitol Hill will tear me to shreds. But I'm more worried those assholes on the other side of the aisle will ratchet up the data breach into a national panic.”

“Give us a week,” Mullins said. “Your directive to Woodson will play as heightened security if it becomes an issue. Bringing Rudy Hauser into your confidence will not only give me a conduit to you, but also be viewed as a prudent response to a possible internal security violation.”

“So you're pinning all your hopes on Brentwood's computer when it might be the very source of the breach?”

“All the more reason, sir. Consider it a virtual infiltration, and in this case Dr. Li is the best agent we could possibly have as an asset.”

“A Chinese national blackmailed into her cooperation is our hope.” The President shook his head in disbelief.

“She's a woman of principle and loyalty,” Mullins said. Then he thought, those are the two things that have never stood in the way of your ambition.

“Loyalty to whom?” Brighton asked.

“To her son. She knows his future isn't in China. She's our best hope because we are hers.”

Brighton walked to Mullins' chair and looked down at him. “Okay. I'm trusting your judgment.”

Mullins stood and looked the man squarely in the eye. “As every President trusts his Secret Service agents. I'm just one more.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

With personal assurance for their safety, President Brighton instructed Dawkins to coordinate moving Dr. Li and Peter from the Breezewood Motel to a more secure location. A second vehicle was commissioned to take Mullins and Woodson to the Fairlington Villages condo. They hoped to find some clue as to why Kayli and Josh weren't at home.

At eight-forty-five, the driver of their black Tahoe, a Secret Service agent named Buck Nesbitt, pulled into the parking lot off South Columbus and stopped in front of the door to Woodson's four-unit building. Woodson and Mullins immediately jumped out.

“The lights are on and Kayli's car is here,” Woodson said.

Mullins pulled a keyring from his pocket and handed it to Woodson. “Ready?”

His son-in-law nodded and unlocked the door. Mullins followed him up a short flight of stairs to the landing outside the unit.

As soon as they stepped inside, Woodson called, “Kayli, it's me!”

No answer. Mullins noticed a half-eaten bowl of dry Cheerios on the dining room table. “Looks like Josh didn't finish his afternoon snack.”

“I'll check downstairs. You take the kitchen.”

Mullins found only an open box of Cheerios sitting on the granite counter. A few plates stood in the drying rack beside the sink. He figured they were the dishes from lunch that Kayli had washed by hand. He returned to the front room. One of Josh's favorite puzzles was half completed on the coffee table. Kayli had always been strict about making her son put away his toys before they went out.

Mullins checked the French doors that led to a small patio in back. A pane had been broken out beside the doorknob large enough for a hand to reach inside.

Woodson bounded up the stairs two at a time. “No sign of them. Some clothes are spread out on the bed, but I don't know if Kayli was folding laundry or pulled them from the drawers.”

Mullins pointed to the door. “The glass is broken and the shards are inside. Someone forced his way in.”

Woodson paled and his eyes darted around the room. “There's no sign of a struggle. Kayli had to hear the glass in the door break if she was sitting here with Josh.”

“Whoever came in must have been armed and got the drop on her. They've taken them somewhere.”

“Why?” Woodson asked. “Kayli knows nothing about the investigation.”

“To get at us.” Mullins started for the front door. “There's nothing we can do here. Let's brief Buck Nesbitt and have him ask Dawkins for a forensics team to go through here.”

“Where are we going?”

“Nesbitt will take us to the motel to get the luggage and your car. Then you're going to take me to the Prius and my phone. No one's going to talk to me on this burner, but they might reach me through the other number. Lisa Li and Peter are safe now. Kayli and Josh are the priority so we need their abductors to find us if we have any chance of knowing who and what we're up against.”

It was near eleven when Woodson parked by Mullins' Prius. He handed his father-in-law the keys.

“Where did you put the phone?” Mullins asked.

“Under the driver's seat.”

“All right. We'll both return to D.C. in the Prius and stay at my apartment. Once we're on the road, call Dawkins and tell him to have someone pick up the rental at the motel and your car here. I left the Escort unlocked and the keys under the seat.”

They transferred to the Prius and Mullins retrieved his personal phone. He noted two voicemail messages. The first came from Kayli's cell.

“Dad, Josh and I are fine. We've gone with Mr. Jenkins. He said there was a change of plans and Mr. Brentwood was taking us to you. He said you'd know where and he wants everyone to return. Hope to see you soon.”

Mullins played the message again on speaker mode for Woodson.

“Do you think she's being forced to say that?” Woodson asked.

“I don't know. She sounds calm. I'd told her she was going into protective custody, so if Jenkins said there was a change in plans, she might have believed him. If it were a threat, I'm surprised Jenkins or Brentwood didn't give me some kind of ultimatum.”

“But why break in?”

Mullins shook his head and then pounded the steering wheel. “We have to hope Brentwood was a rescuer but respond as if he were an abductor.” He looked at his phone. “I don't recognize this second number.”

The voicemail had come in thirty minutes after Kayli's. Mullins left the phone on speaker and pushed play. “Rusty, this is Ned Farino. Please call me as soon as you get this message. I'm worried about Robert. I need to talk to you before he hurts someone. I'll be at this number day and night.”

“That's not reassuring,” Woodson said. “Does Brentwood strike you as unbalanced?”

“I don't know. The guy sees the world, hell, he sees the whole universe differently. I guess that's what makes a genius. One of his men did pull a gun on me, and Brentwood is clearly on a mission.”

“Then we need to head straight to North Carolina.”

“Not without Lisa and Peter. Brentwood said everyone should return. I'll call Farino when I'm on the road. We're changing plans. You keep your car and follow me. I don't want Brentwood to know you're in play. Once we determine Kayli and Josh are safe, we'll decide whether to bring you out in the open. My inclination is to have you return to D.C. and follow up on Brighton's authorization for you to track MacArthur's actions before he was killed.”

“I understand,” Woodson said. “As much as I'd like to see Kayli and Josh, we need to learn if the enemy is without or within.”

Mullins started for the door. “Then let's go. Brighton's going to have a fit because I asked for a safe house and now I'm stealing Lisa and Peter away from it.”

The safe house wasn't a house at all but a high-rise apartment building outside Silver Spring, Maryland. A night security guard manned a desk in the lobby and stopped Mullins and Woodson as they entered. Woodson offered the apartment number, the guard checked a log book and wished them a good night. They entered the elevator and Woodson pushed the button for the eighth floor.

Dawkins met them at the apartment door. “Any word on your daughter, Rusty? I'm sorry my man arrived too late.” His tired, brown eyes showed genuine concern.

“No,” Mullins lied. “Did you send forensics in?”

“Yes, but the preliminary report isn't promising. It looks like they just up and walked out of the house.”

“Maybe that's what they did.” Mullins gestured to Woodson. “Allen's checking with all their friends in case there's some benign explanation for their absence.”

“Then let's hope that's the case.” Dawkins stepped back to let them enter. “Dr. Li and the boy went to bed around eleven.”

“Good,” Mullins said. “Why don't you take off and get some sleep yourself?”

Dawkins shook his head. “Relief's not scheduled till seven.”

“Come on, Sam. I've got the Navy here, an awake guard downstairs, and I'm armed to the teeth. You got us here. That's all I heard the President ask of you.”

“Are you sure you're okay?”

“I am. Any coffee in this place?”

“Just brewed a fresh pot in the kitchen.”

“Then take one for the road. Allen and I will swap guard duty. We're only talking seven hours.”

Dawkins seemed relieved at the prospect of going home. “Well, you've got my cell if you need me.”

As soon as Dawkins was gone, Mullins went to the bedroom with the closed door and rapped softly. A few seconds later, Lisa Li stepped out, fully clothed except for her shoes.

She rubbed her eyes. “What time is it?”

“A little after midnight.”

She looked past Mullins to Woodson. “Why are you so late? Where's your wife and son?”

“With Brentwood,” Woodson said. “He's taken them to North Carolina.”

Li jerked her head back to Mullins. “North Carolina? I don't understand.”

“Neither do I,” Mullins said. “That's why we're going back now.”

Her dark eyes sharpened their focus. “What about the killer in Spartanburg?”

“Believe me, I'm not happy about it. But someone murdered Allen's commanding officer here. I've no doubt it's linked somehow. Our best chance might be under Brentwood's protection where we can constantly monitor the facial recognition probes. The guy will slip up and show up.”

“And my work?” Li asked.

“That's why Brentwood moved my daughter and grandson. He knew I'd come back and bring you. He's pushing to meet his deadline and you're a critical part of the plan, aren't you?”

“In his mind,” she said.

“Then we'll use that to our advantage and surreptitiously continue our cyber searches. If Apollo hacked into the Defense Department, do you think you could do so using the alternate identity?”

“If I'm given the time and control to pull Apollo offline. What are we looking for?”

“Things we shouldn't see. Connections that shouldn't exist.”

***

Heinrich Schmidt pulled into a rest stop south of Durham, North Carolina. The place was deserted, which meant his rental car stood out for any highway patrol officer who might come cruising by. Schmidt needed to stretch his legs and would be back on the road in less than five minutes. The odds were well in his favor that he wouldn't be noticed.

However, odds no longer had anything to do with it. The job had become an albatross ever since the Marriott fiasco. Everything before then had gone like clockwork. Yes, the MacArthur hit had been successful, but the target had been so unexpected that Schmidt wondered if the whole Double H conspiracy was unraveling. That made him nervous.

Then when the woman and boy hadn't been at the condo, he'd broken in to wait for them. Thirty minutes later, a man whose dark suit screamed federal agent started ringing the buzzer. Schmidt had bolted and circled around the block to his car. When he drove past, he saw the man sitting in a black SUV, keeping the condo under surveillance. He'd killed time in Shirlington, first at a library and then dinner at a restaurant called the Capitol City Brewing Company. He avoided any alcohol. His head needed to be clear.

He returned to the Woodson condo several hours after dark. To his dismay, a mobile crime lab was parked in front.

Things were getting hot. Schmidt wanted to drive straight to Miami and get the hell out of the country. He also wanted the money. The woman and the boy might still be a paycheck once they were located.

He'd wait in Charlotte, close to his original target. It was a big enough city in which to stay hidden, and the airport had enough international flights to quickly put an ocean between himself and any pursuers. Yes, he decided. He'd stay in the game longer. At least as long as the wire transfers kept hitting his bank account.

***

Mullins glanced at Lisa Li riding beside him. Her head rested against the passenger door and her breathing was soft and regular. Woodson had carried Peter out of the apartment to the Prius and the boy had barely opened his eyes. He slept soundly in the backseat.

Mullins checked the rearview mirror. Woodson was about a quarter mile behind him on I-95. It was two in the morning. He pulled his personal phone from his pocket, took his eyes off the road just long enough to see his recent calls, and touched the number he wanted.

“Ned Farino,” said a voice as energetic as if it were two in the afternoon.

“Mullins here.”

“Where are you?”

“Where are you?”

“In my Washington apartment. Are you going to the Fairfax lab tomorrow?”

“No.”

A few seconds of silence told Mullins the man hadn't expected that answer.

“Good,” Farino said. “That's why I was calling. I think it would be best if you stayed clear of Robert for a while.”

“And why's that?”

“He's under a lot of pressure. All of it self-imposed. Robert's mind is, well, it's complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

Mullins heard Farino take a deep breath. “I guess the best way to put it is that a different personality can emerge. It might be why he has this fascination for Dr. Li and her work with the subconscious. I'm not a psychiatrist, but it's almost like his subconscious becomes the conscious force driving him to more extreme behavior. He gets angry, violent even. I've known Robert since college and I can read the signs. I know you're ex-Secret Service. Well, consider me and others close to Robert like his Secret Service, only we're protecting him from himself.”

“And how will our staying away help him?”

“As important as Dr. Li is, she isn't the priority right now. You might not know but the Director of the Office of Naval Intelligence was assassinated yesterday afternoon. Vice Admiral MacArthur and Robert had a close working relationship. His death has fueled Robert's paranoia. Let me just say he could turn on you and Dr. Li if he thinks you're working against him.”

“And do what?”

“Depending on his mental state, almost anything. He told me last week he was worried MacArthur was trying to take over Apollo.”

“Well, he doesn't have to worry about that now.”

“Exactly, Mr. Mullins. He doesn't have to worry about that now.”

Mullins paused, weighing whether to keep the conversation going. “We're coming back. Robert has my daughter and grandson.”

“Robert has them?”

Mullins heard the surprise and edge of fear in the man's voice.

“Yes. And if either of them is harmed, you'll see violent behavior, Mr. Farino. I promise you.”

***

Robert Brentwood sat on the dock, his customary glass of Blanton's replaced by a pink jar of soap bubble liquid. Brentwood dipped the plastic wand into the slippery syrup and then gently blew a stream of spheres turned silver by the moonlight. A breeze lifted them skyward and out over the lake. He blew more bubbles and watched as one by one they popped, going from refractors of moon and stars to minuscule collapsed droplets plunging to oblivion on the lake's dark surface.