No One to Trust (7 page)

CryptHead:
Whoa.

Grok:
Yeah, fully sentient machines, but without constraints.

CryptHead:
Created using nanotech?

RawMode:
On target. Some dudes are crying that since the development of cognizant, self-replicating machines is inevitable, scientists need to fully understand the technology to ensure a benign application.

Heavy stuff, but not really new. That had been the gist of what I’d understood from Darren’s paper. Still it seemed odd to me that a man who founded a nanotech company and dedicated his life to furthering nanotechnology would have such a sudden change of heart.

CryptHead:
You guys agree with that?

Grok:
Course we agree. We’re here on the site, aren’t we?

Like,
duh
, Lexi. “Think before you type, knucklehead,” I muttered to myself.

CryptHead:
So, you know anything else interesting about this Greening dude? Does he frequent this chat room? Maybe I could ask him directly about this stuff.

RawMode:
Couldn’t say if he comes here. It’s not like we use our real names anyway. For all you know, I could be Darren Greening.

That stopped me cold. I thought for a minute before I resumed typing.

CryptHead:
So, are you?

RawMode:
Nah. Hahahaha.

I rolled my eyes. Jeez, two geeks with a sense of humor. A dangerous combination. On any other day, I might have been amused, but not today.

CryptHead:
So, how close do you think we are to creating these self-replicating thinking machines?

There was a long pause and I stared at the blinking cursor, wondering what they were thinking. Maybe I had asked a few too many pointed questions. Nonetheless, I waited patiently and finally saw a reply.

Grok:
Some say we’re already there, geek princess. Beta form, of course.

Now that shocked me. Even at a beta or testing stage, creating conscious beings using nanotechnology was pretty astounding. I wondered whether this was a factor in Darren’s decision to disappear. But what did sentient machines have to do with the nanotech energy production that Darren was working on?

Whatever the case, these guys had given me a lot to think about. I wasn’t sure this was what I logged on hoping to find, but it was enough for now and I didn’t want to put them off by being too pushy or curious.

CryptHead:
Well, thanks, dudes. Gotta go. Hope to see you here again soon.

RawMode:
Come back anytime, crypt princess.

I logged off and then leaned back in my chair. Jeez. Machines of Destruction. It sounded spooky…no, surreal. I took a sip of my Diet Coke. As mind-boggling as all this might be, I was getting paid to figure out how, if at all, any of this information applied to Darren Greening, and for that matter, to me. And frankly, right now, I was seeing diddly as far as a connection between the three of us.

I took an aspirin to ward off the headache that had started behind my right eye and washed it down with more Coke. It was perfect timing because shortly thereafter, a Detective Mastory came into my office and interviewed me about the neck-snapping man in the garage.

I spoke to him for about ten minutes, but he didn’t have any more of a clue than I did about who had attacked me. I had done my civic duty and the D.C. police would do exactly nothing to track him down on my behalf.

I readjusted my office temperature, got some coffee and read through more of the info that Ken and Jay had sent my way about Darren, Michael and Flow Technologies. Nothing leaped out at me. In fact, nothing at all was coming together for me in terms of a big picture. And a damned good, big picture was what I really needed right now.

About eleven-thirty, Finn stopped by my office to ask whether I was ready to head out to the Lighthouse Cyber Café. I’d almost forgotten about it, but just the mention of the place made my stomach growl in anticipation of a thick, juicy double cheeseburger. I grabbed my coat, putting it on in the elevator as we headed to the underground garage where Finn’s Jag was parked.

“Did you reach Niles?” I asked as the elevator dinged and we got off.

“I did. And we’re all set for a visit tomorrow morning.”

I looked over at him. “Tomorrow? Why not today?”

“They’re supposedly in meetings all day.”

“Jeez, like I need them peering over my shoulder the whole time. I guess that means we’re not permitted to look at the space without their supervision.”

“Apparently not.” I saw the corner of his mouth tighten. “Will that put a cramp in your style?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

“Well, there you have it.”

It was clear he was annoyed and, for that matter, so was I. For a bunch of guys supposedly worried sick about their star employee, they weren’t making things all that easy for us to find him.

We climbed into Finn’s Jag and pulled out of the parking lot. Traffic wasn’t too bad as we made our way into Georgetown.

I glanced at Finn. “Did you have a chance to read Darren’s paper yet?”

“Yeah, but it was complex as hell. I did pass it on to Ben though.”

“Good thinking.” Of the three of us, Ben was probably the most likely to understand the nuances of nanotechnology.

I directed Finn to the Lighthouse Cyber Café, but we drove around for another fifteen minutes until we were able to snag an empty parking space on M Street. Luckily Finn was an ace parallel parker and easily squeezed his car in between a pickup and a minivan.

“My parents live just a few streets over that way,” I said to Finn, shoving my bare hands into my coat. I’d forgotten a hat and my ears were burning from the cold.

He pulled his collar up against the wind. “You told me that they live in Georgetown. Do you visit often?”

“
Often
is not the operative word.”

“It isn’t?”

I love my parents, but sometimes they drive me crazy. My mom, a former Miss Teen USA and Miss Colonial Blossom, hates the fact that I am not into clothes, big hair or lawyers who aspire to be politicians. She constantly ambushes me with blind dates with catastrophic results. Unfortunately, my lack of looks and a wealthy husband at age twenty-five is a perpetual horror to her. To my growing dismay, she has now made it her life’s mission to find me a husband, which doesn’t make my parents’ house a particularly inviting place to visit these days. In fact, if it weren’t for my parents’ wonderful chef, Sasha, and his amazing food, they’d probably only see me once every couple of months.

Finn opened the door to the café. “Well, maybe I’ll meet them someday.”

My heart skipped a beat. I knew my mother would approve of Finn, especially since he’s a lawyer and the heir to a billion-dollar fortune. But I wasn’t about to tell her and subject Finn to a full-out assault by a mother highly skilled at urban matchmaking.

I stepped across the threshold and into the café. It was more like a pub that had been turned into a cozy student hangout with warm wood paneling and dim lights. Like any respectable pub, it smelled of smoke and beer. A bar of old polished mahogany stretched across the left side of the wall and the rest of the room was crammed with tables and booths. Pretty much everyone seemed to have a laptop or electronic device of some kind. Most people wore earphones while they worked to block out the music blaring over the speakers.

Since it was lunchtime, the café was packed with students sitting, talking and milling about. There were no tables immediately available, but I noticed a young couple leaving a booth in the back corner. Using well-practiced moves, I quickly swept across the room and snagged it right from under the noses of what looked like three rowdy frat boys. One of them made an obnoxious comment to me, but they acknowledged fair play by moving instead toward the bar.

I looked over my shoulder and saw Finn still standing by the door. He looked utterly out of place here in his expensive wool coat and fancy Italian shoes. He had probably never frequented a place like this nor had he likely ever had to snag a table in his life. I had a sinking feeling that I was in for Hurt City big time if I continued to have fantasies about this guy.

But now we had work to do. Standing on tiptoe, I waved him over and he smiled as he made his way through the crowd to me. We slid in on opposite sides of the booth and Finn shook his head as he shrugged out of his coat.

“Nice move. I thought those guys might actually fight you for it.”

“Nope. One look at me and they knew I meant business.”

“You’re serious.”

“Damn right. You don’t grow up with two older brothers and not learn how to defend yourself.”

He laughed. “You never cease to amaze me, Lexi.”

“I sincerely hope you mean that in a good way.”

“I do, lass.”

I liked it when he called me
lass.
It seemed intimate and sexy—almost a pet name. Of course, it was probably just wishful thinking on my part. All the same, when he talked to me like that, I forgot all about our fundamental differences and my tummy went all warm and fuzzy.

“Hi, I’m Brandy.” A young girl stepped up to our table and took out an order form and pen. “I’ll be your waitress for the day. Do you need a menu?”

Brandy looked to be about nineteen, thin with blond hair tied back in a ponytail. She wore jeans, a white T-shirt and a green apron tied around her hips. Clearly a student working for extra cash. She openly eyed Finn in appreciation and when he smiled back at her, she blushed red to the roots of her hair. This
always
happened when we were out together, and I tried to swallow my annoyance.

“I highly recommend the double cheeseburger and fries,” I said to Finn.

He nodded. “All right. That works for me.”

“Make it two,” I said to Brandy and then pulled Darren Greening’s photo out of my bag. “Before you go, would you mind taking a look at this picture and telling me if you’ve seen this guy in here before?”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “What are you, a cop?”

“Nope.”

“Then what?”

Finn reached across the table and touched her arm. “Brandy, we could really use your help. We think this boy might be in trouble and we’re trying to find him. Would you be so kind just to let us know whether you’ve seen him here before and when?”

Finn’s voice was low and seductive and it worked wonders on Brandy. Her eyes widened and I thought she might just melt all over him on the spot. Finn snuck a glance at me and I rolled my eyes. The corner of his lips twitched.

“You know, you look familiar,” Brandy said to him, her eyebrows crinkling together. “Have we met before?”

Only in the pages of
Celebrity Focus
magazine, I thought, but wisely held my tongue.

“No, I’m sure I’d remember,” he said.

She shrugged. “Well, I guess it can’t hurt to take a look.”

She took the photo, angling it toward the light. Then she shook her head. “Can’t say for certain. We get a lot of his type in here. You can ask Rudy or Alan behind the bar, I guess. They might know, although Alan has been working here for only a couple of weeks. Of course, you can always check with the manager, Jody Hansen. She’s got an office in the back.” She jerked her thumb toward a small alcove, which also housed the restrooms.

“Thank you, Brandy,” Finn said. “You’ve been so helpful.” She beamed as she left, shaking her hips for his benefit.

“Do you want me to talk to the guys at the bar?” he asked.

“I know Rudy. I’ll talk to him. You take Jody.”

We left our coats at the table so our booth wouldn’t get stolen and went our separate ways. I squeezed up to the bar and waved to get Rudy’s attention. He stood barely five foot five, all muscle with bulging biceps, a thick chest and no neck. His eyes registered surprise as he saw me, but he smiled.

“Take over for a moment, Alan,” he called over the music to the other guy behind the bar who nodded.

“Shit, if it ain’t Lexi Carmichael.” He came around the bar to greet me. His voice was deep and throaty, the result of decades of smoking.

He pumped my hand. “How the hell are you, girl? It’s been some time since you’ve come in here. Now you’re all grown up.”

“That’s nothing new. I’ve always been taller than you.”

He laughed good-naturedly. “You still at the NSA?”

“Hey, where’d you hear I worked at the NSA?” I said with mock indignity. “That’s classified.”

“Shit, ain’t nothing classified in a bar.”

I grinned. “Well, if you must know, I’m working for a new, private computer security firm in Crystal City.”

He whistled. “Moving up to the big time, now are you?”

“Some might see it that way.”

“So, what brings you here?”

“Hopefully, some info,” I replied, raising my voice to be heard over the music. I handed him a photo of Darren. “You ever see this guy in here before?”

Rudy squinted at the picture and then turned back to me. “Didn’t make you out as Darren’s type.”

“So you
do
know Darren.”

“Sure. He and his friend Michael used to haunt this place until they graduated a few years back. Came in often enough that we were on a first-name basis. They’ve visited a couple of times since, but I heard they started some big-wig tech corporation, and I haven’t seen either of them for some time.”

“Oh. You ever see them in here with anyone else?”

“Like who?”

“I don’t know, a girlfriend or some other guys?”

Rudy rubbed his hand over his forehead. “Not once. And since you asked, I think those boys only had eyes for each other…if you get my drift.”

“What drift?”

Rudy sighed. “They
liked
each other, kid.”

“And your point would be?”

“For God’s sake, Lexi, I think they were gay.”

I looked at him in surprise. “Gay?”

Rudy shrugged. “Don’t know for sure. Just a bartender’s hunch, that’s all. You’d probably know better. You understand his type better than I do. Hell, in most ways, you
are
his type, Lexi.”