Undetectable (Great Minds Thriller) (17 page)

Connor spoke under his breath to Anselm. “I’m going to kill you,” he whispered, as if the entire day’s events were all somehow due to Anselm’s lack of respect.

“That’s
enough
,” Ms. Stewart said sharply, and all at once she was angry; angry that there was a fourth grader on his way to the emergency room to have stitches, angry that this was the second day of school and already there was blood being cleaned from the white linoleum floor of the cafeteria, and angry, most of all, that she was going to have to
explain
these things to Connor Feeney as though he were an infant. She was going to have to convince him, somehow, that what he had done was not like throwing a snowball at someone. That he was one strike away from being ejected from the school once and for all. That this was serious.

She stood up and glared at the boy, who barely seemed to notice she was there.

Kevin left the office, closing the door behind him as he walked out. He wondered, as he made his way back to the lab, whether Emily Beck would be riding in the ambulance with Elias Worth.

And whether he would see her again that day.

In the teacher’s lounge after the final period, Kevin sat for a moment on his own while others came in and out, grabbing their extra snacks and chatting about their classes and students. He had a lesson plan laid out on the little table, and he kept his head down as if he were working on something for the next day.

He was plotting his afternoon. His next round of investigations.

Danny came into the lounge, and Kevin looked up. He was glad to see Danny; he had something he wanted to ask.

“Danny, can I – ”

“You coming out with us?”

Kevin stopped, confused. “Out where?”

“A bar, of course. Bunch of us are getting a bite and a drink.”

Kevin considered. He looked up at the clock. “It’s not even three.”

“Teachers and old people,” Danny said with a happy shrug. “We do the early bird thing. Time to relax. Day’s over.”

Not true
, Kevin thought.
I have so much to do.

“You coming?” Danny asked again.

Kevin looked carefully at him. He squinted his eyes and really
looked
, trying to coax his brain into a moment of forced recognition. But nothing happened. “Danny,” he said finally, “I’m sorry, but can you remind me when we first met?”

The big man glanced up at the ceiling. He didn’t seem put off by the question. “First day of orientation,” he said. “So that would have been six days ago. Thursday last.”

Kevin nodded and let out a little sigh. He would add Danny to the growing list of people who couldn’t help, people who could add nothing to the puzzle of the last three months. The various doormen, his personal assistant, old high school and college friends, his old boss, and now his newest friend.

I’m not done, though. I’ve got an idea for this afternoon, and it’s a good one.

Danny was still trying to coax him into coming out. He was leaning forward now, grinning broadly. “Hey,” he said quickly, as if he had forgotten something important. “Emily’s going to be there.”

“What?” Kevin raised an eyebrow. He proceeded with caution. “So what? Why are you telling
me
?”

Danny looked around innocently. “Who else is here?”

“You know what I mean. What about that guy who teaches fifth grade French? Charlie? Or Matt, the one who works with Ms. Stewart?” He gave Danny a sideways look. “And what about you?”

But Danny only shook his head. “I’ve got my own commitments,” he said mysteriously.

Kevin smiled. “So do I,” he said, and then he sat back and gave Danny a little goodbye wave. “I’ll catch you guys for another outing. Maybe next week. Today I’ve got errands.”

Danny shook his head. “You’re not getting away that easily.” He pulled out a chair from under the table and sat down. “I’ve got a few minutes. We were interrupted this morning. Tell me what happens if Billaud figures out the NP thing. What’s this fearsome
singularity
?”

Kevin smiled. Danny was being nice, asking him about things he knew he’d want to talk about. Making friends.

And let’s face it, I could use one or two of those right about now.

“I’m really
not
coming out with you,” Kevin said.

“I get it. I’m seriously asking about the singularity thing. Fill me in.”

Kevin watched him for another
moment
, and then he gave in. It was one of his favorite subjects, after all. “Okay, here’s the deal. If Billaud can get through the NP barrier, then that’ll mean basically
any
problem can be solved by a computer, no matter how complex.”

“Sounds good,” Danny said. “And then what?”

Kevin shrugged. “I have no idea. Nobody does. That’s what’s exciting, and
that’s
the singularity. If a computer can solve any problem, then it can redesign itself. It can make itself smarter and smarter without limit, and all bets are off.”

Danny shook his head. “How’d we go from a Fed Ex delivery man to computers redesigning themselves?”

“It’s all connected. The Fed Ex problem is just a way of visualizing an unlimited number of possible arrangements. It doesn’t have to be delivery routes. It can be paths on a circuit board. Lines of code in an algorithm. The best way to set up a subway system. Only humans can do that kind of stuff with any real success. If you can get a computer to do those things, then it can theoretically solve anything.”

“Anything like what?”

“You name it. It could design an engine with perfect efficiency, or create the protein-folding scheme for a drug that will completely block cancer-cell metastasis. There’s honestly no limit.”

Danny raised his eyebrows. He looked simultaneously impressed and skeptical. “Very sci-fi,” he said diplomatically. “What’s a
singularity
got to do with it?”

“That’s just shorthand. A singularity is another name for a black hole, and there’s no way to see what happens past the event horizon of a black hole. Computer scientists look at this NP threshold basically the same way. You can’t see what’s going to happen until you get there. Until you’re past it.”

“Okay, let’s continue this conversation at the bar with everyone else.” He got up from the table, beckoning Kevin to come along.

Kevin smiled again, glad to have been invited a second time. Danny’s tactics were the nicest kind. But he stayed put. “I’m a new teacher,” Kevin said. “Remember? I’ve got lesson plans that need preparing.”

A lie, but there really was too much Kevin needed to do.

Too many questions still to be asked.

Danny shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said, and turned to go. “Can I send Ms. Beck your regrets?”

“Give her a big hug for me instead.”

“I can do that.”

Kevin waited ten minutes in the lounge, and then he was out on the sidewalk by the main entrance. He took a breath before setting out. There was a uniformed policeman a little way down the block; he had stopped to talk to some painters who were loading supplies into two large white vans at the curb. The cop was motioning with his hand, gesturing toward the school.

Kevin turned away, toward Park Avenue.

Then he headed south.

Stalking A Target

Gun Two sat in the Ford F-150 pickup near the corner of Third Avenue and 72nd street, the big engine idling underneath him. He was dressed in dark blue coveralls with a matching blue hat pulled down low over his eyes.

“Is he still there?”

He spoke under his breath, barely moving his lips. The tiny microphone in his collar picked up every sound. He waited. His nose was bandaged and splinted, and there were dark circles under both his eyes.

Still no response.

After another minute the information came back to him through his earpiece. He nodded slowly. “Turning right on Lexington or still heading east?”

He closed his eyes and took another long breath through his mouth. He had not been able to breath at all through his nose since being corrected by Gun One.

The second response came, and he opened his eyes.

“Any other units in the area?” he asked. A pause. “No. Just give me a five block radius.”

He put the pickup into reverse and backed out of the parking space he was in. Then he pulled gently forward until he was fifteen feet from the intersection. He double-parked and put on his hazard lights.

“Okay. E.T.A. to my position?”

After a moment he nodded again, and then he reached up and tapped a contact behind his ear, ending the call. He pulled his hat another inch down on his head, shifted the pickup into drive, and waited with his foot on the break.

The truck’s engine was making a higher sound now. It was ready. Eager.

The Target

Officer Hulse tucked his notebook back into his pocket and continued along his route. There had been nothing particularly interesting or suspicious about that painting crew between Lexington and Park, but he had been told to stay on alert for his special detail on 74th – never mind that he didn’t know what he was supposed to be on alert
for
– and to Officer Hulse, being alert simply meant taking an extra minute. You stopped, you talked, you wrote things down. He had seen these painters the day before, bringing ladders and buckets from one van to another, and now here they were again. Not that Officer Hulse really gave a damn, but he hadn’t noticed any scaffolding on any of the buildings on this street. No drop cloths or work permits or anything. So he stopped and asked.

Their answers were good enough. Bored and lazy enough, and none of Hulse’s interior alarm bells so much as pinged. It was all interior work, they said. It was those buildings right across the street, the owners weren’t in at the moment, but Officer Hulse was told he should feel free to go in and talk to them about it tomorrow morning, and here’s their number, you can call them yourself. The painters seemed almost eager at the prospect of the cop talking to their employers.

Maybe they were hoping it would be an excuse to slow the whole job down by a day or two.

Either way, Hulse wanted to be thorough. So he took down the information, took down their names, their company number, and the number of the apartment owners. And then he went on his way. He had been alert. He had collected information. It was useless, tedious information, but that was the job.