The Singularity Race (13 page)

“Overlaps them?”

“Yes. Did they shop at the same stores, belong to the same organizations? And then add our dead assassins to that mix, concentrating on four years ago. If we get some hits, do they converge? Maybe you focus on the Montreal Airport again.” He paused a second, and then asked, “How long will this take?”

“For Apollo, it depends on how many connections are found. Each one might generate more avenues of pursuit and we want him to exhaust them all. I have prep work to do before we begin, especially with the second shielded layer. That might take a few days. Maybe we should plan on Saturday night when no one else is working.”

“All right,” Mullins agreed. Then he realized something was missing from the search, something he should have requested from his son-in-law. But perhaps this was the more discreet way. “After you've performed one of these searches, do you think you'll know how private our inquiries are?”

“Yes. In fact I'll run some innocuous test and then ask the Apollo team to see if it appears in his memory. Why?”

“I'd like whatever background information you can get on Brentwood and his company. I don't want him to know I'm doing it.”

“That could be volumes.”

“Narrow it down to biography, clients, investors, competitors, and any litigation they might be involved in. I want to know both his friends and his enemies.”

“And the photo of your lovely face?” she teased. “What am I to do with it?”

“Match it to anything from a week before the Marriott attack to the minute you run the search.”

“What do you hope to find doing that?”

“Nothing,” Mullins said. “Nothing at all.”

Chapter Twenty

At ten the morning after he met Mullins, Allen Woodson knocked on the private door of Vice Admiral Louis MacArthur's office. The same gruff voice ordered him to enter.

MacArthur was at his desk, but this time he stood and indicated that Woodson should join him in the small conference area in the opposite corner. Woodson took the gesture as a sign their meeting would be more of a conversation than a briefing.

“How was your trip?” MacArthur asked amicably.

“I drove down the night before and got back around ten last night.”

“No problem leasing the car with the ID and debit card?”

“No, sir.” Woodson had found a packet in his hotel room containing a false Virginia driver's license with his photo and a debit card, both in the name of Roger Ethridge.

“Did Mullins have any reaction to what you gave him?” MacArthur asked.

“We made a handoff and had a brief conversation. He didn't examine the contents in front of me.”

“He say what he'll do with them?”

“Not specifically. His overall plan is to use Brentwood's resources any way he can.”

MacArthur nodded solemnly. “Normally, you could bet your sweet ass I'd shut down this fiasco in a heartbeat. Handing intelligence material to a civilian, no matter how much he's admired, would be bad enough, but then to turn around and let him run it through an external computer suspected to be one of the most powerful in the world?” MacArthur actually grinned at the prospect. “Well, if this blows up in our faces, I'm laying it right back on the threshold of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. You and I aren't falling on our swords, that's for damn sure. We took an oath to protect country and constitution, not a moron.”

Woodson felt compelled to say, “Yes, sir.”

MacArthur started to rise.

“Sir, Mullins had one request.”

“What is it now?” MacArthur asked, exasperation coating the words.

Woodson pulled the two A and B envelopes from his pocket. “He asked if you'd run a DNA analysis on these two hair specimens.”

“Hair? Whose?”

“He didn't say. Just would you expedite it.”

“What's he want to know?”

“I guess anything the samples tell you. Maybe he's checking to determine if they came from the same person.”

MacArthur took the two envelopes and studied Woodson a moment. “Would your father-in-law tell you everything he's learning?”

“I have no reason to think otherwise.”
Unless he gave someone his word to keep a secret
, Woodson thought. Then even water-boarding wouldn't flush the truth out of him.

Woodson waited for the next question, the one he would have asked—will you tell me everything your father-in-law tells you?

Instead, MacArthur stood. “Thank you, Woodson. That will be all.”

***

On Saturday night, Mullins, Li, and Peter ate dinner in the main house alone. Brentwood was spending the weekend at his apartment in Manhattan. His absence made the planned visit to the research campus all the easier as Li wouldn't have to explain her late night visit beforehand.

At nine, they left the lake with Peter and his iPad in the backseat of the Malibu. The night sky was clear, and when they turned onto the road for the complex, the fields were empty of their resident bison. Mullins figured the herd might crowd together in a lower section of pasture near a stream, unless they had been a virtual creation projected on the horizon. The more he was around Brentwood the less sure he was of reality. Maybe right at the moment he was in the lab hooked to some neural stimulator creating the illusion of driving. But then what difference did it make? Reality was only what you thought it was.

The gate swung open, triggered by the automatic responder mounted in the car. Only two vehicles were in the lot. Mullins assumed one belonged to the security guard on duty and the other to an overnight tech who monitored the servers.

“Put your badge on, Peter,” Li said. “We don't want to trip any alarms.”

The guard at the entrance smiled and wished them a good evening. As soon as the door closed behind them, he picked up his phone.

Mullins, Li, and Peter stepped off the elevator on the lower level to find Felicia Corazón seated at her desk. If she was surprised by their presence at the late hour, she didn't show it.

Li stopped, not sure whether to offer an explanation or simply go to her office.

Mullins didn't hesitate. “Don't you have a home, Felicia?” He shook his head in mock sympathy. “I hope they're paying you double time.”

“I work when I'm needed. We're running some maintenance tests tonight and we didn't want to tie up resources during the day.” She turned to Li. “Did you need something?”

Lisa Li stepped closer to the desk. “I do. Mr. Brentwood authorized me to help Mr. Mullins with his investigation. I too don't want to tie up Apollo when the team needs his full capacity. How long till I can begin?”

Felicia looked at Peter. “It could be quite a while. I'll be happy to schedule time for you tomorrow.”

“We'll wait,” Li said. “Mr. Brentwood is anxious to get the answers to who tried to kill me. We'll be in the game room.” Li led the way past Felicia before giving her a chance to object.

As they walked down the hallway, Mullins whispered, “Nicely done. Can you find out what sort of test they're running?”

“Yes, but after we get what we came for. What did you think about the sauce?” She opened the door and Peter ran to the nearest game console.

Mullins stopped on the threshold. “What sauce?”

“In the corner of her mouth. Red tomato sauce that was still damp. We interrupted her while she was eating, but there was no food at her desk.”

“Look, Lisa, I'm supposed to be the detective. You're making me look bad in front of Peter.”

She smiled. “Why do you think I'm whispering?”

Mullins walked away.

“Where are you going?”

“I'm hungry,” he said in a normal voice. “Can I bring you something from the cafeteria?”

“Coffee. Take your time.”

Mullins returned fifteen minutes later, juggling two cups of coffee and a glass of apple juice for Peter. The boy was engrossed in some kind of maze game and whispered thank you when Mullins set the drink beside him.

Lisa Li sat on a sofa, her legs crossed under her with her knees supporting her laptop.

“Can you log on through this computer?” Mullins asked.

“No. I need my secure terminal in my office. But I went ahead and wrote the search parameters we need. That way I just have to input them and Apollo can go to work.” She took a cup of coffee. “Did you get something to eat?”

“No. Not a slice of pizza or noodle of spaghetti to be found. I'm so hungry I even checked the trash.”

“Interesting,” Li said.

“Either the sauce was blood and Felicia's a vampire and there's a drained body on the premises, or she was eating somewhere else. Maybe a takeout pizza in another room.”

“And the guard alerted her we were coming,” Li said.

Mullins nodded toward her computer. “Which search will you run first?”

“The more extensive one that I need to isolate from Apollo. It could take longer.”

“Be sure and run the other one through Apollo,” Mullins cautioned.

“I will. And I'll need to fabricate an activity log.”

“Why?”

“To account for the time Apollo's offline. We have to assume someone will check. If he suddenly goes dark for any length of time, questions will be asked.”

Mullins shrugged. “Well, if we're here all night, then we're here all night.”

The door opened. Felicia stuck her head in. “We're clear if you'd like to begin. Good luck and good night.”

As soon as the door closed, Li said, “If I have good luck, then it will be a good night.” She grabbed her laptop and left.

Mullins made himself as comfortable as he could on the sofa. Too comfortable. He woke to find Peter nestled beside him, head resting against his thigh. Mullins shifted gently so that he could see his watch. Five minutes after one. He wondered if he should check on Li, but he didn't want to wake or abandon the boy. He decided to wait, knowing he would be no help in accelerating anything she was doing.

“Rusty, we can go.”

Li's words penetrated his groggy brain and he realized he'd fallen back to sleep. Peter whimpered but didn't awaken.

He yawned. “Did you run everything?”

“Yes. We'll talk later.”

Mullins read the tension in her face. “Okay. I'll carry Peter.”

“Not with one arm.” She picked up Peter's iPad where it had fallen on the floor and handed it to Mullins. “He's not too big for me yet.” She nudged Peter to sit up and then lifted him under his arms. “Can you also take my laptop?”

Mullins followed her with the computer in one hand and iPad in the other. The empty silence of the hallways was broken only by the click of their footsteps. Li's came quick and short as she bore the weight of the sleeping boy.

Although Mullins was tempted to take a hurried look at whatever might be on Felicia's deserted desk, he was unsure whether surveillance cameras monitored this section of the facility. Instead, he stayed close to Li as she headed straight for the elevator.

When they reached the car, Mullins said, “Sit in the backseat with Peter.” He opened the Malibu's rear door and helped Li slide in with Peter on her lap. He got behind the wheel and whispered over his shoulder, “I'm going to loop once around the building.”

“Why?”

“Because when we arrived, there were two cars in the lot. A Subaru Forester and a Land Rover. Now, there's only the Subaru.”

“Felicia went home.”

“Probably.” He started the engine and gave a wave to the guard watching them from his sentinel post. “But I'm always up for a little sight-seeing.” He followed the two-lane access road the length of the building for several hundred yards before turning behind it.

“Do you see it?” he asked.

Li made out the colorless shape in the pale moonlight. “The other car. The one that was in front when we got here.”

“Yes. The Land Rover. Tucked as close to the rear loading dock as possible.”

“What do you think they're unloading?”

“Nothing. I think someone is still working.” Mullins started down the far side of the building toward the exit. “While you were doing your searches would you have known if they were still using Apollo?”

“Definitely. But if they were waiting, why didn't Felicia ask me to let her know when I was finished?”

“Why, indeed. Once we get back to the cottage and you get Peter settled, let's have a little walk. I need to stretch my legs before bed.”

When Li didn't reply, Mullins knew she understood.

It was nearly three in the morning when Mullins and Li walked along the water's edge. The full moon hung just above the western ridgeline and only a few outdoor spotlights shone from scattered houses across the lake.

Li had taken Mullins' good arm as they crossed uneven ground and continued to hold onto him after they reached the smooth gravel path. She stopped and her grip tightened. “You think the car, as well as the cottage, might be bugged, don't you?”

“We have to assume they are. Now that our little off-the-books investigation has begun, I don't want us to discuss anything we learn through your alternate identity. Someone's probably reviewing Apollo's searches. That's to be expected, and it would be unnatural for us not to discuss those findings. We can do that tomorrow. I'm interested in learning what our under-the-radar foray uncovered.”

“Okay. First, your picture got hits from hundreds of news sources after the Marriott attacks. Nothing unusual there. Then there was some surveillance camera footage.”

“Here?” Mullins asked.

“No. Looked like D.C. Various stores and exteriors.”

“You got into those databases?”

“I didn't. The computer evidently has total access to both private and government sources and took the initiative. Its hacking power is nothing short of astonishing.”

“Anything else?”

“Were you at an engagement this week?”

Mullins shook his head in disbelief. “On Chimney Rock. I witnessed a proposal and we had our picture made.”

“Well, the computer found it posted on Facebook strictly off facial recognition.”

Mullins thought it really had been a wise precaution to crop Woodson out of the photograph. “Anything on the woman and the New Hampshire scene?”

Lisa Li looked farther down the path to where a bench faced the lake. “Why don't we sit? I'm getting tired of standing.”

They walked, still arm in arm, to a clearing near the dock. Waves lapped gently against the shore.

“Do you want me to go back to the cottage for your coat?” Mullins asked.

“No. I'm fine.” Li sat and waited for him to join her. “I got a run on the license plate that matched Kim Woodson to the vehicle. Then several files on the woman's disappearance.”

“From news sources?”

“From the FBI.”

“Jesus,” Mullins exclaimed. “They've hacked into the bureau?”

“Evidently. There was no overlap between Kim Woodson and those missing professors, but there was an interesting development involving the dead assassins.”

Mullins leaned closer to her, every neuron in his own brain alert.

“I ran the photos of the five through Apollo, the search you wanted to be readily discoverable.”

“Correct.”

“Well, there were three hits generated by facial recognition. Three of the five men were photographed by CCTV surveillance in front of a bank in Zurich.”

“Three together?”

“No. On three separate occasions.”

Mullins nodded, excitement building at what he thought might be his first real breakthrough. “Accounts they set up for the deposit of payments. How much time in between?”