The Singularity Race (22 page)

Mullins heard the roll call. Crocker was missing. So was a team member named Bradley. “Find them,” Jenkins said. He knelt by Mullins. “You hit anywhere, Rusty?”

Mullins shook his head. “No.” He crawled to his knees and Jenkins helped him stand.

Mullins pointed to the top of the fence. “He cut the laser somehow.”

“You sure?”

“The mist had been showing its trace. Fortunately I noticed it was no longer there just before I walked up on him. He took out Crocker with a knife. Probably got Bradley before that.”

“What happened?” Robert Brentwood came running up carrying a flashlight. He wore a brown bathrobe over his yellow pajamas and his hair stuck out in wild filaments.

“The assassin made it over the fence, sir. Rusty was able to stop him, but not before he killed my man Crocker. We think another of the team has met the same fate.”

Brentwood stepped close to Mullins. His eyes were wide and blinking furiously. “Tell me he didn't get to Dr. Li or the boy.”

“I don't believe so. He would have killed the guards on the way in, not the way out.” Mullins recalled his initial sight of the assassin. “Can I see your flashlight, Robert?”

“Sure. Let me hold your gun.”

Mullins made the exchange and then turned the beam on the body. The man had fallen on his back and Mullins quickly pinpointed the black receiver on his belt. “Look at this.”

Jenkins knelt beside Mullins and saw the Thales P25. “He was on our communication frequency. He could monitor everything.”

“But who let him in?” Brentwood asked.

“He scaled the fence,” Mullins said. “Either he or someone else cut the laser.”

“Impossible. The fence isn't even controlled from here.”

“Then where's it controlled from?”

“The lab,” Brentwood said. “One of Apollo's functions.”

Mullins and Jenkins stood.

“I need to notify the FBI.” Mullins pointed to the body at his feet. “He's their case now, and we've linked him not only to the Marriott attacks, but also to others.”

Brentwood stepped back and leveled the gun at Mullins.

“I'm afraid I can't allow that, Rusty.” He angled his head toward Jenkins. “Escort him to the main house. We're going to move everyone to the lab as soon as possible.”

Jenkins trained his pistol on Mullins' chest. “You heard the boss. Take it slow and steady. No one wants any trouble.”

Mullins refused to budge. “This is a big mistake, Robert. You need to let me help you.”

“No, Rusty,” Brentwood said. “I'm helping you. I'm helping all of us. And if you value your daughter and grandson, you'll do exactly as I say.”

Chapter Thirty-one

Jenkins and Brentwood escorted Mullins to the main house while the rest of the security team remained on guard. Although Mullins assumed some arrangements were being made to remove the bodies, he didn't understand why Brentwood refused to call in the FBI. Was it because he was linked to the dead assassin somehow, or had he something else to hide?

As they neared the steps to the main entrance, Mullins asked, “Can you put away your guns? I don't want to upset Kayli and my grandson.”

“Do I have your word you'll cooperate?” Brentwood asked.

“Yes.”

“Good.” He handed Mullins' pistol to Jenkins.

The security head tucked it under his belt in the small of his back and then holstered his own.

“There really is no need for anyone to be upset,” Brentwood said. “We're moving to the lab for safety until I can determine just what the hell's going on.”

“Then I can tell my daughter about the attack?”

“Yes. I'm sure she heard your pistol-shot. I've no reason to hide what happened unless you want to fabricate some other explanation.”

Mullins found Kayli sitting on the sofa in the front room. Josh had fallen asleep on her lap. In the daylight, the wide windows would have provided a spectacular view of the lake. But even if the panorama had been more than a cloudy night sky, Mullins wouldn't have noticed. He only had eyes for his daughter and grandson.

He hurried to Kayli before she could move and disturb Josh. As he bent down to kiss her cheek, she drew back in alarm.

“Your face. It's all red on one side.”

“I'm fine. It's nothing. We had an intruder and I fired my own gun too close.”

“And this intruder?”

Mullins glanced back at Jenkins.

“We have him under control,” Jenkins said.

“Under control?” Kayli turned to her dad. “Did you shoot him?”

Mullins nodded. “He was behind the attack in Washington. We believe he was coming for Dr. Li.”

“Is she all right?”

Before Mullins could answer, he heard a commotion at the door behind him. He turned and saw Lisa Li and Peter push by one of Jenkins' men.

“Rusty!” Li called his name and ran toward him, leaving Peter to scurry after.

Mullins stood still as Li hugged him. Peter squeezed between them to grab his waist.

Li stepped back and placed her hands on his shoulders. Tears trailed down her cheeks. “When I heard the shot, I thought he'd killed you.”

“I'm okay,” Mullins said.

Li stared at his face. “You don't look okay.” She shifted her gaze to Kayli. “Tell your father he doesn't look okay.”

In spite of the seriousness of the moment, Kayli smiled. “When you know him better, you'll know you can't tell him anything.”

All the activity woke Josh, who upon seeing another boy hugging his grandfather, scrambled off the sofa and clutched onto a leg.

“It's all right,” Mullins said, trying to untangle himself from the multiple embraces. “Josh, we're going back to the building with the world's largest TV. Peter's coming too.”

“Like this?” Josh eyed Peter's baseball-themed pajamas.

“No. Mr. Brentwood's going to let us change first.” Mullins shot a hard glance across the room. “Right, Robert?”

Brentwood smiled affably. “That's right. So hurry and change so we can be there before the buffalo wake up.” He made a show of looking at his watch. “Let's be out at the vehicles in fifteen minutes.”

Mullins could see Kayli wanted to grill him about what was actually going on, but he waved her off with an almost imperceptible nod of his head.

“Come on, Josh,” she said. “Let's see if we can beat Peter.”

The three-year-old raced back to the bedroom.

Mullins took Lisa Li and Peter by the hand and walked back to the guest cottage. One of Jenkins' men shadowed them.

Mullins leaned in close to Li's ear. “If you have the opportunity, check some things out.”

“What?”

“Call up the blueprints for the lower level.”

“What are we looking for?”

“You said Felicia had red sauce in the corner of her mouth. I don't want to know what she was eating, I want to know where.”

“Okay. What else?”

“You monitored Apollo entering the Department of Defense and hacking the drone program. Can you run a trace into Defense's finances?”

“That's a huge labyrinth, isn't it?”

“No. Just one account. I'll give you the number as soon as you're able to boot up your laptop. If our shadow doesn't give us any privacy, I'll find some way to get it to you.”

“Again, what am I looking for?”

“Recent transactions and who originated them. The last two months should be sufficient.”

They reached the porch. Mullins saw the two Adirondack chairs paired together. He wanted nothing more than to sit down with a glass of Scotch and Lisa Li beside him.

He turned around to their escort. “We'll be out soon.”

The man nodded. “Fifteen minutes. I'll be right next to the door.”

“Thank you.” Mullins hoped his relief hadn't been too obvious. “Are you still in radio contact with Jenkins?”

“Yes.”

“Then ask him to check the serial number on the dead man's Thales P25.”

“He had one?”

“Just ask him.”

Li and Peter went to their bedroom. Mullins closed his door and threw his bag on the bed. He scattered items across the bedspread like he was sorting them before packing. He retrieved the burner phone from beneath the mattress and used the keypad as fast as he could to compose a text message:

Spartanburg assassin dead. Brentwood refuses calling authorities. Transferring us to lab. Alert Dawkins and Hauser. Use every resource to investigate Rex Brentwood suicide. Kayli and Josh fine but possible hostage situation. Proceed with extreme caution.

Mullins took a deep breath and then pushed SEND.

He picked up the case containing his electric razor, removed the shaver and pushed it under the mattress. He powered off the burner phone, put it in the case and laid it on the bottom of his bag. Then he repacked his clothes.

He went down the short hall to the second bedroom and knocked on the door. “Lisa, can I come in?”

She opened the door. He saw Peter in the far corner changing out of his pajamas. At the moment, all he wore were his underwear and baseball cap.

“My laptop's booted up,” Li said.

“Bury this number somewhere on it.” He told her the digits for MacArthur's covert account from memory. “Run it first chance you get, and don't worry about waiting till you can take Apollo offline. We're well beyond game-playing.”

“Are you sure you know what you're doing, Rusty?”

Mullins managed a weak smile. “I know what I'm doing. I just don't know what the consequences are going to be.” He looked past her. “Hurry up, Peter. Josh is going to beat you.”

“That's okay, Mr. Mullins. It's not like it's a baseball game.”

Mullins laughed. “I'll be on the porch.” Then he bent closer to Li. “We'll get through this.”

When they gathered to load their bags in the vehicles, Brentwood made a point of asking Mullins to take Peter with Kayli and Josh. Jenkins would be their driver.

Mullins looked at Li who nodded her approval.

“Come on, Peter,” Mullins said. “I'm sure Josh wants to sit beside you.”

He helped Kayli get the boys in the back of Jenkins' large Tahoe before climbing in the front passenger's seat.

“I'd like the kids to get a few more hours sleep,” Mullins told Jenkins. “Any space in that complex for a cot and a quiet room?”

“We have some rollaways in storage. We'll work something out. But you have to understand Robert's got bigger fish to fry.”

“The laser?”

“Yeah. I imagine that's why he's got Dr. Li with him. Somebody hacked our system and we need to find out who and how, and be damn quick about it.”

“Too much emphasis on offense?”

“What do you mean?” Jenkins started the SUV, but waited till Brentwood's limo moved first.

“I mean he creates a self-learning computer that can smash through any firewall, but doesn't develop its own defenses.”

Jenkins eased the Tahoe forward. “I can assure you, Rusty, that isn't at all the case. The success of a stealth hack is leaving no route for the target to strike back. I don't know computers but I do know Robert. Unlike some of our so-called military experts, he'd never launch an assault without an exit strategy.”

“In cyber terms,” Mullins said.

“In any terms. The man always has a plan.”

“Did you get my message about the Thales P25?”

“Yes. The serial number falls into the middle of ours.”

Mullins took a deep breath. “Then hacking might be the least of his problems.”

The convoy consisted of four vehicles with Brentwood and Jenkins sandwiched between the lead and trail cars. As they exited through the lake house gate, Brentwood raised the insulating panel between the rear and front seats.

“We might not have much time,” Brentwood told Li. “If someone from the outside was able to compromise our security system, we could be under a broader attack. Jué Dé or one of the other research teams must be closer than we thought. The race is in the final stretch and I've no choice but to give Apollo full rein.”

“But I'm not through with the tests,” Li objected. “He'll have no restraints.”

“You should be able to implement them later. In fact, the delay could be beneficial under the circumstances.”

“You want every option?”

“For inside and out,” Brentwood confirmed. “Lethal, if necessary. So be prepared.”

Li felt an involuntary shiver run down her spine. She hoped Brentwood hadn't noticed.

“What will you do?” she asked.

“Have the team launch the infiltration sequences. And I need to reach Ned Farino in D.C. We'll be going on lockdown and I need him ready to be my emissary to the White House.”

“So, it's really going to happen,” Li said, more to herself than to Brentwood.

“Yes. In twenty-four hours we'll change the world. And you won't need Rusty Mullins anymore.”

Chapter Thirty-two

When the convoy reached the parking lot of Cumulus Cognitive Connections, the front and rear vehicles looped around and formed a protective wedge behind Brentwood and Jenkins. The security guard stood by the front door and held it open as first Brentwood and Li and then Mullins, Kayli, and the boys were hustled inside.

“Put everyone in the game room,” Brentwood told Jenkins. “Dr. Li and I have work to do.”

“Rusty asked about some cots and blankets for the boys,” Jenkins said.

Brentwood scowled and then shrugged. “Why not? Have your men take care of it. Dr. Li is to have access to her office and I'll be in mine.”

“Will someone bring our luggage?” Mullins asked. “Sounds like we're going to be here awhile.”

Brentwood had already started for the elevator. He called over his shoulder, “Whatever.”

Within thirty minutes, five rollaway beds had been brought to the game room along with their bags. The new clothes Brentwood had purchased for Kayli and Josh had been folded into a duffel bag.

“I suggest we all get some rest,” Mullins told Kayli. “Josh, you and Peter will probably have all day to play.”

“No. I want to play now.”

Peter gave an exaggerated yawn. “I'm tired, Josh. I want to try out the new bed.”

“Me too,” Josh said, instantly agreeing with the older boy.

Mullins mouthed a silent “thank you” to Peter. After the others were settled, he turned out the light and took the cot farthest from the door. His bag lay on the floor beside him, the burner phone still hidden but within reach. It had only been about an hour since he sent the emergency text to his son-in-law. Too soon to check for any response. He did what he could for the moment. He fell asleep.

Down the hall, Lisa Li worked frantically trying to create the final link that would integrate Asimov into Apollo and complete the artificial replication of the human brain. She understood what Brentwood wanted—everything ready to be triggered when the time was right. She created a launch program that would be a one-click execution. But it needed to be labeled something other than Asimov, other than what an internal or external hack would recognize. She christened it with the first name that popped in her mind.

Brentwood stared out into space, his virtual universe displayed across his office wall. He dialed Farino's cell phone and let it ring until it went to voicemail. “Call me.” He then immediately dialed again. This time Farino answered.

“Sorry. I couldn't get to the phone in time.” Farino sounded groggy.

“Ned, I'm activating Apollo as we speak. The team's been alerted. Li is prepping Asimov.”

“What?” Farino's voice became instantly alert.

“I need you on standby in D.C.,” Brentwood said.

“What the hell happened?”

“We had a security breach at the lake. Mullins killed the Double H assassin he'd been tracking, but it's clear we've been infiltrated. Apollo might be facing a formidable adversary.”

“That's impossible.”

“No, it's not. We're going into lockdown. I expect Apollo to aggressively have invaded all key systems within eight hours. You need to be ready. Keep a newscast on. I'll be in touch.”

Brentwood hung up. His mind returned to the dead intruder at the lake. Brentwood went to his desk and pressed a button on the side return. The top flipped up revealing a keyboard and monitor. He opened a software program, typed in a phone number and clicked on the icon “Locate.”

***

Mullins' internal alarm clock woke him after three hours of sleep. The windowless game room was still dark, and he could tell from the rhythmic breathing around him that no one else was awake.

He rolled over and quietly reached to the bottom of his clothing bag. The cell phone had made it through security within the electric-razor case. Given the circumstances of their arrival, he doubted that any of their belongings had been searched.

He re-powered the phone, fully expecting to see no service bars since he was below ground level. To his surprise, the display showed strong coverage, probably because Brentwood needed cellular access. The ban on cell phones in the lab had been a fabrication to keep Mullins from having communication access.

Using his body to shield the light from the screen, Mullins checked for incoming messages. One new text:

Dawkins, Hauser alerted. Planning response. Rex Brentwood death investigated by NYPD homicide. Witness statement taken from building security guard Ned Farino. See you soon.

Mullins stared at the text, trying to process all its implications. Dawkins would contact the President and he should go to Hauser. Had Woodson told Dawkins he was also going to the Director of the FBI directly? If not and if President Brighton didn't contact Hauser, the man Mullins said could be trusted, then that could mean Brighton was protecting Brentwood despite his protestations otherwise.

And what about Ned Farino showing up in the police investigation? His rent-a-cop job during college turned out to be in the Brentwoods' apartment building. No way that was a coincidence. Had the Brentwoods known Farino and gotten him the job, or was the job the way Farino and Robert Brentwood had first met? What had Farino's statement to the police been? Had he seen Rex Brentwood that evening and could speak to his mood? A more likely and more sinister possibility existed. Farino had told the police no one had entered the building overnight who would be a likely suspect if Rex Brentwood hadn't taken his own life. Had Robert Brentwood come there in the middle of the night and Ned Farino covered it up? If so, then Farino had a hold over him for life.

Mullins had pressed Woodson to dig deeper into Rex Brentwood's suicide because he believed the most intelligent murder was one that didn't look like a murder. And in this case, Rex Brentwood's death had occurred within the context of having one of the world's most intelligent men as an enemy. IQ didn't limit patricide, only the sophistication of its execution.

A barely audible creak came from the door. Mullins plunged the phone underneath his packed clothes and slowly rolled over. Soft light from the hall spilled into the game room, framing the silhouette of Lisa Li in the doorway.

Mullins stood from the rollaway and trod as lightly as he could toward her. Li retreated as he closed the door behind them.

“What is it?” Mullins whispered.

“Let's talk in my office.” She led the way deeper into the heart of the lab.

When they were safely ensconced, Li pulled up a building schematic on one of the larger computer screens. “You asked for a blueprint. I found this in the architect's file.” She traced a black double line that nearly bisected the lower level of the building. “I don't think I've ever been beyond this line in my travels through this place. Nothing is labeled, but power runs and outlet specs reveal additional workspace. Plus plumbing for bathrooms, even a kitchen.”

“The source of Felicia's meal that we interrupted.”

“You suspected that, didn't you?”

Mullins moved closer to examine the screen. “Yes, but it's not suspicious on its own. I'm sure there are late hours and even round-the-clock sessions. But why not show us during that first grand tour?”

“I don't know,” Li said. “It's also odd that there's only one doorway between the two sections. I went by it before coming to you. It's locked and has a separate keypad.”

“Can't you get Apollo to open it?”

“Yes, but that would tell Brentwood I'm messing around with his building. And there's something else.”

Mullins quickly turned from the monitor. “What?”

“I had Apollo go after that account you gave me. He was inside the Defense Department within a few seconds.”

“That's significant?”

“Yes,” Li said. “I'd say he's already residing there and insulated from detection. He knew exactly where to go for the financial account and brought up the transaction history. Everything had been initiated through directives issued within the Office of Naval Intelligence.”

“Vice Admiral MacArthur, as we suspected.”

“But the latest one is different. Another five-hundred-thousand-dollar transfer to the Zurich account but from a different source.”

“Where?”

“Langley, Virginia.”

“Langley,” Mullins repeated. “The CIA.”

“Does that make a difference?” Li asked.

“It's outside the military,” Mullins explained. “The CIA is civilian and reports to the Director of National Intelligence. Its primary mission is to provide intelligence for the President and his Cabinet.”

Li's eyes widened. “Would the President have known?”

“If he did, then I've played his fool.” Mullins fought to bring his rage under control. “Where's Brentwood? We need to talk.”

“As far as I know, he's still in his office. I'll show you.” She led him through the hallways and doors that opened automatically as cameras scanned their badges and faces.

They found Brentwood's door open. He sat motionless in a chair, facing his virtual view of the universe. Brentwood didn't turn at the sound of their footsteps but continued to stare straight ahead.

“Robert,” Li said.

No response.

Li glanced at Mullins with a worried look.

For a moment, Mullins stood paralyzed, eyes fixed on the intergalactic scene, mesmerized by its vast depth. Then he shook off its disorienting effect. “Robert!” He nearly shouted the word.

Brentwood trembled. He twisted around, eyes pulled from somewhere beyond to focus on the two faces before him. “Rusty?” He seemed perplexed that Mullins was there. He held out his hand.

Mullins saw what looked like a child's jar of soap bubble mix with the stem of a wand sticking above the rim.

“Do you blow bubbles?” Brentwood asked.

Mullins remembered Farino's warning that Brentwood's mental stability was precarious—that he might blackout, even do violent things. Like blowing bubbles?

Brentwood lifted the wand and instead of blowing through it, he swung it in an arc, sending a stream of bubbles toward outer space only to see them burst against the wall of the virtual image.

“I blow bubbles with my grandson,” Mullins said.

Brentwood nodded. “Good. My father never understood. The potential mathematics of the universe is expressed in a simple soap bubble.”

Again, he waved his hand and bubbles like clear planets formed in its wake. “That will be my question for Apollo. What is the universe?”

“Mine is more down to earth,” Mullins said. “Who murdered your father? You or Ned Farino?”

Brentwood calmly slipped the wand back into the jar. “Murdered? That's hardly the word, Rusty. I'll accept killed. Who stopped my father is more accurate because I assure you my mother's life depended on it.” He smiled at Lisa Li. “Surely you understand, Dr. Li.”

Lisa Li said nothing.

“Well, Rusty, you'll be free to ask Apollo that question. But later today. Right now he's quite busy. I guess you could call it his coming out party.”

“Then I have one question for you. What's a Thales P25?”

Brentwood's face went blank. Mullins saw the man had no clue what he was talking about.

“Let me ask this,” Mullins added. “Could Apollo's infiltration of a computer system create a false trail?”

“A false trail?”

“Yes. For example, make it look like some transaction was initiated by one source when it was really generated by Apollo.”

“Child's play,” Brentwood said. “But I assure you, I've done no such thing.”

“How much do you trust Nick Jenkins?”

Brentwood stood and set the bar of bubble soap on the arm of his chair. “Completely. My life is in his hands. He will be ready when the moment comes. And I believe that time is drawing near.” Brentwood gestured toward the door. “Shall we? I suggest we gather everyone in the central core.”

Mullins nodded, and suspected Brentwood now also knew the truth.

They stopped by the game room where they found Kayli, Josh, and Peter awake. The boys had already started a video baseball game.

“Peter, come with us,” Li said. “Mr. Brentwood wants to show us something.”

Josh whined, but as soon as Peter dropped his control stick, he ran to Kayli wanting to go as well.

“It's fine,” Mullins whispered to his daughter. “But stay close to me.”

When they reached Felicia's unoccupied station by the elevator, they found the video wall had changed from a scenic vista to multiple screens of live news broadcasts from around the world. CNN, MSNBC, CNBC, FOX, BBC, AL JAZEERA, CHINA XINHUA NEWS NETWORK. The sound was down, but anchors were talking or packaged stories airing.

Nick Jenkins stood by the elevator. He had his pistol at his side. Mullins wondered if his own Glock was still tucked in the small of the man's back.

Brentwood stepped to the computer console at Felicia's station. “Today wasn't supposed to occur till several weeks from now. But things happened and so I'm giving Apollo his independence today. For his safety from reactionary forces, and for ours. His presence will be felt around the world, his benevolence a new era of peace and prosperity. Dare I say even perhaps a new interpretation of The Second Coming.”

He paused, looking for some reaction appropriate to the magnitude of his proclamation, but Mullins, Kayli, and Li simply watched him warily. Josh pulled on his mother's hand, wanting to go back to the game room. Peter was the only one who seemed taken by his words.

“The team is making final preparations.” He pointed to Felicia's workstation. “I've enabled all launch controls to be made from here. Jenkins also has us in lockdown from the outside so that we are protected until Apollo's transformation and infiltration is complete. Then we will have nothing to fear.” Brentwood looked at Mullins. “And you will have the answers you need, even answers to questions that have been painfully long in coming. I am not a killer, but we've all done what we've had to do to protect the ones we love.” He turned to Kayli. “I dare say you would have done the same, young lady.”