Firewall (The Firewall Spies Book 1)

by Andrew Watts

  “First time up here?” the second guard asked. Colt got the impression the ID check was nothing more than lip service. These men knew exactly who was allowed up here. It was a small, exclusive club.

  “Yup.”

  “Okay, we got you at computer station number six, down there on the right. You can use your fingerprint to unlock it. Let me know if you want any help. We close shop at sixteen-hundred today.”

  “Okay, thank you,” Colt said, and began walking along the main walkway toward his assigned desk. The fourth floor was another open office design. Very spartan. No personal effects on any of the desks. And only a single conference room toward the center of the floor surrounded by floor-to-ceiling glass panels, the type that went opaque at the touch of a button. Right now it was still clear, and Colt counted eight Pax AI executives inside. They were talking animatedly to one another, but the room was soundproof so Colt couldn’t hear a thing.

  He found it interesting they were holding this meeting on a weekend, the night after a raucous party. His instincts told him something was up.

  Colt arrived at his cubicle and sat down. He unlocked the computer with the fingerprint scanner and went to work. He wondered if the device sewn into his black wallet was already humming away, sending out electronic feelers to probe the servers on this floor.

  The operating interface on the assigned computer was easy to navigate. Colt had gone through their less-confidential program folders in his downstairs office and found it to be similar in organization. But the information here was much more robust. Now Colt could see all the different Pax AI programs of interest. Language generation. Automated navigation. Robotics. Colt took his time, reexamining Pax AI project summaries, progress reports, and financial projections. Up here, almost everything was visible.

  There were still some programs with abridged summaries. Hints of the Mountain Research Facility projects that were classified beyond even this level. But the information he could see was still very helpful.

  Colt’s New York financial analysis firm had prepared pages of data on Pax AI and its competitors. The company’s team of business researchers were in many ways just like the CIA’s own analysts. Both had given Colt requirements lists. Information they wanted him to obtain. Colt had done his homework, studying the prep material and putting most of the competitor facts and figures to memory before he arrived.

  Looking at Pax AI’s program summaries here, he saw a substantial difference between competitor benchmarks. On almost all fronts, Pax AI was leading the competition by a wide margin, beating them on cost, performance, and schedule. It was almost too good to be true. If this information was all accurate, it left Colt with two questions: One, how was Pax AI able to consistently achieve these superhuman results? And two, how soon could his investors send their checks? If this rate of technological progress kept up, Pax AI was going to become one of the most valuable companies in the world.

  Colt continued his analysis for the next hour, mentally taking notes and identifying more research requests to send to his team back in New York. He was just about to take a break when he heard commotion coming from the conference room.

  The Pax AI executive meeting had adjourned. Colt could see the group emptying out of the room, heading toward the exit doors and down the stairs, each of them looking confident and serious.

  Luke Pace halted at Colt’s desk, looking nervous. His eyes darted toward the floor as he spoke quietly. “Hey, uh . . . I’m sorry about anything I might have said last night. Too much to drink, you know. I was really out of it. Please disregard whatever I said. Okay?” His eyes met Colt’s gaze, pleading.

  Pace had been very drunk. Colt wondered if he even remembered what he’d said. Colt certainly did. Kozlov wasn’t killed in the hotel. That wasn’t the kind of thing you got confused about no matter how much you had to drink. But it was also dead wrong. Through the video surveillance feed, Colt had seen the blood spatter on the wall. From several rooms away, Colt had heard the smack of the fifty-caliber round embedding itself in the wall, only nanoseconds after breaking through glass and flesh.

  So then why did the look on Pace’s face bother him so much?

  Because Pace wasn’t being truthful.

  Colt nodded, looking sympathetic. “Sure, man. No problem.” He smiled. “To be honest, you were pretty tipsy and I’m not sure I understood everything you said.”

  “Yeah, well . . . sorry.” Pace left looking uncomfortable.

  Next out of the conference room came Ava, her high heels echoing on the floor, her stride both feminine and elegant. Her features striking. Was it possible she’d grown more beautiful over the years?

  “Here on a Saturday? You’re quite driven,” Ava said, stopping at his desk, her tone and face unreadable.

  Colt shrugged. “I guess. How are you? You okay?”

  “You mean after last night?” she said softly.

  Colt nodded slowly.

  Ava bit her lip. “I probably had a little too much to drink.”

  “That seems to be a theme around here,” Colt said.

  Ava looked confused.

  “Never mind,” he said.

  Ava turned to check that no one was behind her before saying, “Well, anyway, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over . . .”

  “Don’t apologize.”

  She looked self-conscious. “Thank you for being gracious.”

  Jeff Kim exited the conference room and began walking toward them.

  Colt stood as Kim arrived. An old military habit, standing for the commanding officer.

  “Has she told you the news?” Kim asked, looking between them.

  Ava said, “Not yet.”

  Colt frowned in confusion.

  Kim said, “We’re going on a business trip. Wheels up in two hours. Would you like to come with us? I have something to say, and I think our investors will be very interested.”

  18

  One hour later Colt was back in the tech counterintelligence unit’s office, knee bouncing under the table, checking his watch. Weng, Rinaldi, and Sims had also rushed to be here. After Kim’s invitation, Colt had raced back to his hotel, texting Wilcox from the taxi before frantically packing for the trip.

  When they all sat, Wilcox said, “Thanks, everyone, for coming on short notice. We have a few moving pieces and it’s best to get us all in here to sort it out.”

  “I’ve only got a few minutes,” Colt stated.

  “We’ll move fast,” Wilcox said. He looked around the table. “McShane was granted fourth-floor access. Today he entered the space with one of our surveillance devices. Heather?”

  Weng shook her head, looking at her laptop. “Bottom line, we didn’t get what we needed. I spoke with the techs. They say the device activated. But the data was limited, and we weren’t able to upload our program in the appropriate servers.”

  “Did the techs tell you why it didn’t work?” Colt asked.

  Weng said, “They have a few theories. It might be that Pax AI segments data based on who logged in to the system. So, if one of their top scientists was working on a program, those drives might be unlocked. But if it’s just you, they only let you see what they want you to see.”

  “The project summaries and projections I reviewed today were something they have kept internal. It was way more than they’ve shared before.”

  Sims said, “You were almost certainly looking at genuine company secrets. But your electronic surveillance device wasn’t able to gain access to their entire network.”

  Weng nodded. “Right. They let you see some stuff. But if you knew where to go, you would have gotten stonewalled if you tried to access some of their data. It’s not project summaries and slideshows we need to see. Our cyber operators need access to the data farms that house their algorithms and sensitive research.”

  Wilcox said, “So how do we get that?”

  “Our techs are consulting with NSA experts. But they told me there may be a vulnerability window created when Pax AI runs
one of their sophisticated AI programs at the Mountain Research Facility. That would open the right valves, so to speak. Then our surveillance software will be able to look inside.”

  Colt turned to Wilcox. “The demo.”

  Wilcox nodded. “That’s going to be our best bet. Please tell the group what Kim told you.”

  Colt filled them in on Kim’s invite to Canada. “He called it a major announcement. To be followed by a more public demonstration next week. They’re going to use technology that is held at the Mountain Research Facility.”

  “I thought The Facility was a closed system. Don’t they shut it off from all communication to the outside world?” asked Rinaldi.

  Colt said, “I asked the same thing. Ava told me when they run controlled demonstrations, Pax AI has the capability to securely transmit and receive data between The Facility and the fourth floor of the Pax AI HQ.”

  “How?”

  Colt shook his head in amazement. “A proprietary quantum communication system. From the headquarters, they can beam it to the outside world. Ava said they developed the technique so Pax AI could demonstrate their AI capabilities while simultaneously protecting their IP.”

  Rinaldi hummed in admiration. “So they run all their AI programs behind a secure wall.”

  Colt nodded. “They use this system to protect all of the AI programs that haven’t been released as open source. No one can hack it.”

  Weng said, “Unless we have our surveillance device on the fourth floor while one of their controlled demonstrations is running . . .”

  Knowing looks from around the table. A plan was forming.

  “Why Banff?” Wilcox asked.

  Weng was typing on her laptop. “There’s a summit for tech CEOs being held in Banff, Alberta, this weekend.”

  “Correct,” Colt said.

  Weng glanced up from her laptop. “Guess who is moderating?”

  “Who?” Wilcox asked.

  “Sheryl Hawkinson. Apparently she’s one of the event sponsors.”

  Wilcox and Rinaldi exchanged looks.

  Colt said, “Maybe that’s why she was talking to Kim at the party last night?”

  “Must have been,” said Sims. “But I’m surprised he accepted. She’s known as an activist investor. Rumor has it that Kim has been avoiding her attempts to take a piece of his company for years.”

  Colt said, “They’re planning to use this conference as the platform for the announcement. Just so you know, I gave my New York employer a heads up, and they told me there’s already media buzz about it. Whatever Kim’s going to say, it will make the news.”

  Wilcox turned to Colt. “When’s your meeting with SANDSTONE?”

  Colt shook his head. “It’s supposed to be tomorrow. That’s one of the things I needed to run by you. What’s the priority? Should I go on this trip and reschedule with SANDSTONE? Or call the Pax AI folks back and tell them I can’t make it?”

  Wilcox said, “I don’t want you missing this trip. It smells like a prime recruitment opportunity.”

  “My thought too. I’ll contact SANDSTONE and postpone. If the SVR suspects her, it will put some more distance between us anyway.”

  Wilcox said, “No. Weng will meet with your agent.”

  Colt looked at Weng, and then back at Wilcox. “Ed . . . SANDSTONE will freak out. I’m surprised she’s even willing to meet after Seattle.”

  Weng said, “Colt, I can handle it.”

  Colt looked at her. “I know you can. But the idea of sending someone in my stead, without letting her know . . . it’s not smart.”

  “So we’ll let her know,” said Wilcox.

  Colt let out a breath. “It’s clumsy. What if SANDSTONE goes dark again? She’s already taking a huge risk meeting with me. I’m the only American intelligence officer she’s communicated with in the past two and a half years.”

  “You can’t be in two places at once. And you’re the only one who got an invite to the Pax AI jet. Both are operational requirements.”

  Colt ran his hand through his hair, looking at the ground as he thought through their options. “Why can’t we just put off the meet with SANDSTONE?”

  Wilcox said, “She’s based out of the Houston consulate. If the SVR is concerned with her loyalty, which they tend to be after one’s agent is killed by a fifty-caliber sniper round, then any change to her travel itinerary will look suspicious. If she’s made plans to meet with you tomorrow, it’s very likely she’s taken extensive precautions to ensure she isn’t tracked. And given the circumstances, she might not have plans to be back here anytime soon.”

  Colt knew he was right.

  Wilcox said, “We can’t afford to wait on this. Weng, despite her extensive personality defects, is a very competent intelligence officer.”

  “Thank you,” said Weng.

  “She can do this. Please send SANDSTONE a prep message so she doesn’t react negatively. That’s my decision.”

  Colt nodded in acceptance, then turned to Weng. “I’ll walk you through our comms procedures when we’re done.” He said to Wilcox, “Anything else before I leave?”

  “Yes, actually.” Wilcox turned to Rinaldi, who cleared his throat.

  “This morning we got a lead on the shooters in Seattle. The FBI found new video evidence about a mile from the crime scene that night. We now think there are three of them, working as a team.”

  “Do we have any names?”

  Rinaldi said, “Negative. But we traced them to a safehouse. FBI SWAT raided it this morning. Guess where it was?”

  Colt shrugged. “Where?”

  “Palo Alto.”

  “They’re here in the Bay Area? Shit. You think they’re planning to hit Pax AI again?”

  “We don’t know. But it’s very possible,” Rinaldi said. “There’s something else. The agents on the raid found something in the house. A symbol carved into the hardwood floor of the living room.”

  Wilcox leaned forward over the table. “It was one of those Trinity symbols. I wasn’t convinced before—I’m still not, not completely—but we need to consider that these guys might be fanatics after all.”

  Special Agent Sims turned her laptop around so everyone could see the images on her screen. “It’s called the Triquetra. A three-sided knot interlaced. It’s been used by several groups throughout history, including the Celtic Nations.”

  “Ah, yes, the Celtics. Great basketball team,” said Weng. “Have we considered that these people might be from Boston?”

  Wilcox shot her a look, and she went quiet.

  Sims continued, “Some Christians adopted it to symbolize the Holy Trinity in the nineteenth century, and it’s been seen in pop culture on several TV shows. Now it seems these AI-worshipers have hijacked it. It’s all over their message boards. T-shirt sales of it are through the roof.”

  “Why?” Colt asked.

  Sims shrugged. “Have you read much about the Trinity AI conspiracy group? I recommend you don’t spend too much time doing so, but if you did, you would discover it’s essentially a choose-your-own-adventure conspiracy game. An alternate reality, where participants find clues in real-world events, then use them to solve supposed mysteries.”

  “It’s madness is what it is,” said Rinaldi.

  Sims said, “When the followers of Trinity mostly agree that one thing is connected to another, it becomes part of their tapestry. It becomes canon if one of the higher-ups in their organization approves it.”

  “They have ranks?”

  “Sort of. It’s a hodgepodge. Some groups are well organized. Others aren’t. All of this to say . . . the Trinity symbol’s semi-religious connection, and the supposed heritage of the group coming from the Manhattan Project . . .”

  Colt did a double take. “Wait, what?”

  Weng was shaking her head. “It’s bullshit . . . don’t even bother . . .”

  Wilcox held up his hand. “I agree. Let’s not spend any more time on this.”

  Rinaldi said, “What matters h
ere is there may be a small team of professional assassins who are inspired by this group. The Trinity symbol was carved into the floor of their safehouse by a large knife. Forensics said the carving was a few days old, but there were signs that the crew had left only this morning.”

  Colt looked around the table. “But, hold on. That hit on Kozlov was very well executed. Do we really think followers of Trinity are doing this? Not a foreign intelligence service?”

  Rinaldi said, “The truth is, we just don’t know. In all likelihood, Kozlov was killed by these men.” He pointed to his computer screen, which showed the FBI image of three obscured silhouettes walking on the Seattle street. “But let’s think about it. Who had the most to gain from his death?”

  Weng said, “We know from our sources that China is actively working to steal information from Pax AI. With his access and a little time, Kozlov could have helped us find out who was stealing Pax AI’s technology. An operation that sophisticated is likely Chinese. Maybe Russian. Let’s say the MSS found out Kozlov was pulling from China’s covert cache of files inside Pax AI every week and handing it to the SVR. China would have wanted to put an end to that. Maybe eliminate the competition while they are at it. I just don’t buy that it was Trinity. Everything I’ve read on them points to a disaggregated cluster of amateur hackers and conspiracy websites. Running an agent inside the hottest AI company in the world is varsity stuff. Trinity is JV at best. Maybe a freshman squad.”

  Colt said, “There was a lot of underestimating Al Qaeda before 2001.”

  Weng shrugged. “Maybe, but Al Qaeda was training to kill people. So far this Trinity stuff doesn’t delve too far into violence. And as for Russia, they were benefiting from Kozlov, so it’s unlikely they did it.”

  Sims said, “Unless the Russians discovered Kozlov was meeting with US agents?”

  Colt said, “I think it is very likely that whoever planned this knew he was meeting with US agents. The timing is too coincidental to conclude otherwise. Which further suggests a professional service commissioned the killers.”

  Rinaldi said, “That’s almost worse. State actors like Russia and China know the rules of the game. There’s been a lot of press comparing the race for AI supremacy to the Cold War and the nuclear arms race. In either era, assassinating someone on US soil is a huge escalation. Think about what it would mean for such an act to have been approved by their leadership. Whatever they are going after must be immensely valuable.”