by Andrew Watts
Pace waved his hand. “No. No. They’re looking in the wrong place. He was killed somewhere else.”
Colt frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Pace leaned in, his eyes wide, his breath smelling of liquor. “He died in The Facility . . .”
Colt stood watching Pace, not knowing what to say. Pace just looked down at the ground, breathing, then spitting into the gravel. Probably getting ready to be sick soon.
“Luke! There you are!” Gerry Nader came out the front door and onto the driveway. He placed his arm around Pace.
Nader looked at Colt. “I’m really sorry. We’re not usually like this. I’m afraid he’s had way too much to drink. Let me get him a ride home.” Nader began walking Pace inside.
As Colt watched them walk through the front entrance, Nader glanced back at him, a worried look in his eye.
Ava called from inside the car, “You coming, sailor?”
Colt walked over to the vehicle and hopped inside, a list of questions spiraling through his mind.
15
Ava wore a bemused look as she stared at Colt in the back of the SUV.
Colt was still turning over the wave of information he had just learned.
“What’s on your mind?” Ava said.
“Just taking it all in.”
Her face softened. “It’s a different world out here.”
“It is.”
“Do you like sushi?”
“Love it.”
She leaned toward the driver and gave him the name of a restaurant. He nodded and tapped in something on the navigational screen.
Ava sat back in her seat and said, “So, how have you been?”
The effect of her gaze was part truth serum, part aphrodisiac. Through the fog of emotion, Colt forced himself to stick to the script. He gave her standard, rehearsed answers. A summary of his last ten years that carefully left out his work for the CIA.
“What about you?” Colt asked. “The last I heard you were thinking of shunning your father’s instructions and heading off to Julliard.”
Ava’s expression changed.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“My father passed away.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .”
She shook her head. “No, it’s no problem. It was a long time ago. Right after we last spoke, actually.”
“What happened?” Colt had actually read the file on her parents, but he couldn’t admit that or say anything to indicate he had been studying her government file. Ava’s parents had been the victims of a terrorist attack. His feelings of sympathy were very real.
Ava said, “An accident. I don’t really want to talk about it, if that’s okay.” She paused, and then said, “I ended up moving to the US, living with my aunt in New York while I got my MBA at Columbia.” Ava ran through her work and living history, all of which matched what Colt had memorized on the plane ride to San Francisco.
“You must have done very well to land at Pax AI. I imagine quite a few people wanted this job.”
Ava looked humble. “I consider myself very lucky.”
“Somehow I doubt it was luck,” Colt said.
The car came to a stop and Colt opened his door, stepping out onto the sidewalk before he reached back and helped Ava out of the vehicle. Her hand was soft to the touch, and he caught a glimpse of her smooth thigh between the high slit of her dress.
Ava thanked the driver and the car departed. She looped her arm through Colt’s elbow, and they walked down the city street. They sat in an outdoor eating section of the restaurant beneath a leafy green tree. Red cushioned seats and plenty of space between tables gave them comfort and privacy.
A waitress arrived and they each ordered cocktails. Ava got a vodka soda with lime. Colt ordered an Old Fashioned.
They reminisced, laughing with the memories, delighting at how much fun they both had that summer. The more they drank, and the longer they spoke, the more Colt felt at ease.
Ava described her current lifestyle, and her role at Pax AI. “It’s incredibly busy and stressful at times. At other moments, it’s like this.” She gestured to their incredible food and surroundings.
Her face had a few more lines than he remembered, and he could see them more clearly in this light. But she was as radiant as ever, and the way she spoke while looking him in the eye showed she really cared about him and what he had to say. He smiled to himself inwardly. It was the same way he tried to speak to agents. Making them feel special. But with Ava, it was sincere.
“So it’s all a dream job? Nothing left to be desired?” Colt said.
Ava stroked the droplets of condensation on the outside of her water glass. “I don’t know. I shouldn’t say anything negative to you.”
Colt gave her a gentle look. “Consider me off-duty.”
“Promise?”
He nodded.
“I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like we are doing all this extraordinary work, making advances that are mind-blowing. But . . . maybe we haven’t thought about the implications.”
“A lot of technology companies probably feel that way, though, right? I remember my mom telling me I was like a zombie in front of our TV when I was growing up. That was when you could only get an hour of cartoons per day. Compare that to now.”
She wrinkled her nose. “The attention economy is certainly part of it.”
“The attention economy?”
“Yes. The idea that time is our most valuable resource. Now it is being chopped up and parceled out for money. It’s like we’re being turned into cogs in a massive wheel. All the while, the wheel is spinning faster and faster.”
“And we have no control over it.”
Ava said, “Right. But that’s actually something I think Pax AI can help with. I’m optimistic we can achieve another level of artificial intelligence. One where technology begins to give us our time back. I want to be bored again.” She winked.
“You’re referring to artificial general intelligence.”
“Yes.”
“So if you are optimistic about that . . . then what’s the problem?”
Ava looked guarded. “Just, some of the areas AI gets into. It gets a little creepy. To the point that I worry about how much control humans will have over their lives in the future.”
Colt raised his eyebrows. “Well, that’s a scary thought. Care to expand on that?”
She laughed. “No. Not really. Not right now.”
Their drinks came and they both took a sip.
Colt said, “Do you miss performing? Making music, I mean?”
“Very much so.”
“Ever think about giving this all up and pursuing it?”
Ava looked a little sad. “Those days are over for me, I’m afraid. But even with art and music, technology has changed everything. You know what some of my independent musician friends spend most of their time on now? Digital marketing. A small fraction of their time goes to making the music, and most of their time to promoting themselves. It makes me sick thinking of that. I would hate nothing more than self-promotion. ‘Look at me. Look at how great I am.’ This is the world we’ve created. Chasing clicks and likes. Blah. Vomit.”
“I can see why they hired you for marketing at Pax AI.”
She laughed. “Hey! You said you were off-duty. But I outsource a lot of that type of work. And I have no trouble promoting my company anyway. It’s the self-promotion that I dislike. That’s not how I was raised.”
“What do you spend most of your time doing? At Pax AI, I mean.”
“Strategy and communications. A lot of the outward-facing work the CEO normally does, but because Jeff is so intensely focused on his engineering work, he delegates everything he can to me. I won’t lie, it’s very exciting. Sometimes I think I’m one of the few people he really trusts.”
Their sushi came and they ate, both of them raving about how good it was. After a few minutes of eating, Colt said, “I should tell you I’m sorry.”
She kept eating, her eyes on her food.
He continued. “. . . About how things ended, I mean.”
Ava placed her chopsticks down and met his gaze. “Me too. I think of you often.” Her eyes were soft. “Sometimes I think if things had just unfolded differently . . .”
Colt wanted to ask her what she meant by that. Ask her why she had stopped communicating with him. Instead, he just said, “Maybe in another lifetime . . .”
They stared at each other for a few heartbeats, and then Ava shook her head, her cheeks flushed.
Colt said, “I think we may need another drink after this.”
“You might be right. I know a place.”
They finished eating and got their check. Ava ordered them another car and soon they were riding along winding streets through the city hills. It was after midnight when they arrived at a rooftop bar called Twenty-Five Lusk. A view of the San Francisco skyline was off to their left as they enjoyed a cocktail. Ava and Colt shared a seat, her leg resting against Colt’s own on a tightly spaced sofa, just one of the signals of the tipsy conversation growing more intimate. The brush of his fingertips against her bare shoulder. Her squeezing his knee to emphasize a laugh.
She said, “How have you found your time here?”
“It’s very interesting. My work usually takes me to more consumer-focused companies. Building the world’s next great razor blades or something like that. It’s incredible to see Pax AI’s technology. About how much your company could change the world.”
She laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Change the world . . . it’s kind of an inside joke at Pax AI. Everyone who interviews for a job with us says they want to change the world. It’s cliché.”
“May I ask why you made the decision to give up music? Why you went into business?”
She sighed. “I guess my father’s spirit still haunts me. His dying wish that I become a doctor, lawyer, or business executive. The successful Jewish son he never had.”
“I’m sorry about your father.”
“So am I.” They went silent for a while. She dug an ice cube out of her cocktail with her spoon and began crunching it between her teeth.
Colt decided to steer the conversation back to Pax AI. He told Ava about the orientation Nader had given him, and how interesting he thought Pax AI’s portfolio was. Then he said, “But to be honest, I’m most excited about the things I haven’t yet been approved to see. Your fourth-floor projects, for example. Or the infamous Mountain Research Facility.”
Her face darkened a bit.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s just, I want to be proud of what I do. And like I said, some of those more advanced programs are a little bit creepy.”
Colt nodded, trying to convey empathy. And trying not to hint at how interested he was. So, she wasn’t proud of what went on at The Facility? Why not? This was the type of thing he could work with. If she was worried about the ethics of Pax AI’s more secretive programs, Colt could exploit that. It was the type of motivation that drove his most committed agents. Money and sex and power be damned. Get an agent who was a true believer, and they’d run through a brick wall for the cause.
Colt said, “Well, I’d sure like to see those programs. I think I’ll have to, for my work. It’s just hard with the red tape right now. All of the security concerns.”
Ava said, “Well, if it makes you feel better, I’m not even cleared to go to The Facility anymore. I probably could go if I pushed, but they’ve limited it to so few people now. And after Kozlov . . . everything is just so strict. Still . . . perhaps I could help. Maybe say something on your behalf, if it’s really important to your work?”
“That would be much appreciated,” Colt said.
Ava placed her drink down on the table. “It’s getting late.”
“I’m ready when you are.”
Ava was looking at him, her face close. She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, pulled him in gently, and they kissed.
When they stopped, she whispered, “Let’s go.”
Colt stood, ears ringing, head buzzing as she led him by the hand through the crowded bar and into the elevator. The elevator was soon packed and they were standing in the corner, her body pressed against his, her arm outstretched, their fingers intertwined. He could feel her breathing. Then the elevator reached the ground floor and they walked out to the curb, neither making eye contact but both knowing what they wanted next.
The others who had been on the elevator were also on the sidewalk, waiting for rides. Ava had her phone to her ear, calling for their car.
Colt’s phone buzzed in his pants pocket and he glanced at the screen to check.
Weng: CIP
Shorthand for check in please.
Ava waved for Colt to follow as she walked down the curb, a white SUV pulling up with a strange humming noise, its LED headlights blinding everyone on the sidewalk.
“What is that thing on top?” Colt asked.
“It’s a LiDAR. Light detection and ranging.”
“Oh. I know those. I worked on a project with a company that had autonomous driving . . . where the hell is the driver?”
Ava laughed. “It’s an autonomous vehicle. They have them all over the place here. Have you not been to San Francisco lately?”
“No, now that you mention it. Do I need to have a will filled out? Or maybe a priest standing by for last rites?”
Once both were in the back seat and the doors were closed, Ava tapped on her phone and the car began moving. Colt was amazed by the car driving them, and equally amazed with the kiss they had shared on the rooftop bar.
Colt was also thinking about Weng’s message. She was supposed to check the phone SANDSTONE had provided. If SANDSTONE was reaching out, her message could be time-sensitive.
Colt snapped out of that thought as Ava leaned back into the leather seat, her fingertips stroking his palm. They were both buzzing from too many cocktails. Her eyes forward, chest pressing tight against her white dress as she breathed.
He knew what he wanted. But down that path lay danger. Didn’t the Moscow Rules say not to fall in love with your agent? Colt was pretty sure that rule wasn’t supposed to mean love in the literal sense. But the Moscow Rules also didn’t cover the scenario of an intelligence officer already being in love with his agent prior to recruitment.
The autonomous-driving SUV came to a stop on a steep street. Ava climbed over Colt, straddling him for a moment with a smile before stepping out onto the sidewalk. Colt laughed and followed, standing by the car door. The block was lined with expensive-looking attached city homes.
Ava stood there on the sidewalk, looking up at him, biting her lower lip. “Did you want to come up?”
Colt had one hand still resting on the open car door. “We probably shouldn’t. Not with Jeff . . . not with my job.”
Her eyes flashed surprise, then hurt. Then back to her original softness. But Colt knew the spell had been broken.
“Maybe in another life,” she said.
Then she turned and walked up the steps.
Colt watched her enter the home and close the door without looking back. He pictured her standing there, alone behind the door, angry or sad. Then the sound of the deadbolt locking snapped him out of it, and he re-entered the vehicle. There was a touchpad in the center console that was pretty easy to use, and Colt was able to get the car to take him to his hotel. He made a call on his encrypted CIA phone while they drove.
Heather Weng answered.
“You get a message?” Colt asked.
“Yup. Just now. SANDSTONE wants to meet.”
16
Jeff Kim awoke at dawn, rays of sun coming in through the skylight twenty feet above his bed. He rose and stretched, putting on a pair of designer fleece athletic pants and a comfortable hoodie. As he walked through the halls of his spacious home, he inserted a wireless headphone into his right ear and said, “Call assistant.
”
Kim was quickly connected to his team of virtual assistants who had for the past three hours been preparing for his daily call.
“Good morning, Mr. Kim,” said the head assistant. He was based in London and handled most of the communication with Kim. Two others were based in Mumbai and did most of the research and production of assets. Creating reports, looking up company data, and sending requests for information to anyone not on the call. A fourth assistant was local, handling any appointments and communication in the United States—dinner and travel, mostly. After each call, the head assistant would go over the call notes with the team and make sure all of Jeff Kim’s instructions were adhered to.
Kim listened to their updates as he walked out the back door and onto the now-empty lawn. The catering company had removed everything from the previous night. One of Kim’s butlers was laying a white cloth over the poolside table. Seeing him, the man handed Kim a bottled water. He thanked the servant with a nod, and walked barefoot onto the grass, heading toward his meditation room as the team filled his ear with company updates from around the world.
Every few seconds, Kim would interrupt the assistant. He made quick decisions with the information he was given, parsing out tasks and asking follow-up questions. The assistants would send emails to dozens of Kim’s employees, contractors, and partners after the call.
There was only one sacrosanct rule, they knew. Do not, under any circumstances, waste Jeff Kim’s time. His mind was a priceless resource.
Kim reached the far side of his back lawn and entered the meditation room. He closed the door behind him and began pacing while he listened.
After a few more exchanges, he bid his team of assistants goodbye and set the earpiece on a tray table on the single desk in the room. He pressed a button on the wall and the mechanical shutter covering the large vertical panel window shifted and shuffled out of view, revealing the mountains in the distance.
Kim sat on the yoga mat in the center of the room and checked his smartwatch. One minute to spare. He folded his legs underneath him and placed his hands comfortably on his thighs. He gave a voice command, and music emanated from speakers in the floor and ceiling.