by Alex Lukeman
"She seems to be pretty good at taking care of herself," Ronnie said.
"It would be interesting if Orlov takes her as his mistress," Nick said.
"What do you mean? You think she's just going to hop into bed with him?"
Selena's voice was annoyed.
"Come on, Selena, we both know your sister's no angel. Besides, it would be difficult to refuse him if he wants her in his bed."
"Hey, maybe they'll get married and invite you to the wedding," Lamont said.
Selena's face turned red. "Asshole." She stood and left the room. They heard her footsteps going down the spiral staircase to the lower level.
Lamont held his hands out, palms up. "What?"
Nick sighed. "Take a break. I'll be back in a minute."
Nick went after Selena. He found her in the operations center getting a cup of coffee.
"He didn't mean anything," he said.
"I know. But she's still my sister. She didn't choose to be born in Russia."
"It's a strange situation."
"That's putting it mildly," Selena said.
"I need you upstairs. There's something we all need to discuss"
Selena took her coffee with her and followed Nick out of the ops center.
Lamont said, "Sorry, Selena," as they came into the office.
"Okay."
Nick sat at the desk. "Steph has developed an artificial intelligence program on one of her computers. She's proposing we consider it an addition to the team."
"A computer?" Ronnie said. "How can it be part of the team?"
"Put wheels and an M-60 on it," Lamont said.
"Lamont, knock it off," Nick said.
"Freddie is much more than just a computer," Steph said. "He can process information at a speed that's impossible for us. He can tap into anything and everything that's hooked up to the web."
"He was doing all that before," Selena said. "What's different?"
"What's different is that Freddie is independently aware. He's functional as a separate intelligence. He brings a different perspective to the information he obtains. He's learning to isolate and analyze seemingly unrelated bits of information and come up with a coherent scenario that knits them together."
"Tell them what he said about the submarine and the assassination of the Chinese ambassador," Nick said.
"On the surface, those things don't appear to be related," Stephanie said. "But Freddie thinks they are. He speculates that someone is attempting to start a war. For example, he discovered that the assassin was really a North Korean agent living in Pyongyang when he was supposed to be nothing more than a tourist from Seoul. That points a finger at North Korea and completely changes the picture when it comes to trying to figure out why the ambassador was killed."
"Why would the North Koreans kill the ambassador of their only ally?" Ronnie asked.
"Exactly," Stephanie said. "Why would they? Freddie doesn't think they would. That's why he thinks a third party is manipulating events."
"And this third-party, whoever it is, is the one who gave the plans for the drone to the North Koreans?"
"We don't know, but it's a possibility. That isn't what I want to talk about at the moment. Freddie wants to be part of our team discussions."
"It talks?" Lamont asked.
"Not it, he. Yes, Freddie can talk. He can listen in through our security system and talk to us through the speakers in the room. He can watch us through the cameras and the monitor on the wall."
"Damn, big brother for real," Ronnie said.
"Not yet," Nick said. "We haven't given him permission."
"A computer that talks asked for permission?" Ronnie's face was incredulous.
"He asked to be part of the team and part of our discussions. I told him I had to think about it and talk to all of you. As weird as it sounds, Freddie could be a valuable addition. He doesn't think the same way we do. I need to know how you feel about it."
"Is he listening now?" Selena asked.
"No," Steph said.
"How do you know that?"
Steph shrugged her shoulders. "There are plenty of safeguards in the programming that would keep him from listening unless I allowed it. Besides, I trust him."
"You trust a computer?"
"Why not? They're a lot more trustworthy than people."
"I didn't know you were such a cynic, Steph," Ronnie said.
"I'm not a cynic, just a realist."
Nick resisted an urge to tap his pen on Harker's desk.
"Steph, why don't you plug Freddie in and let everyone, uh, meet him."
"It will just take a second," Stephanie said. "He'll be observing from the security cameras. Whoever he's looking at will show up on the monitor."
She entered a sequence of commands on her laptop.
"Freddie, the team wants to meet you."
On the monitor, Stephanie's image appeared, sitting next to Harker's desk in her usual spot.
Good morning, Stephanie. Freddie's computerized voice came over the speakers.
"Damn," Lamont said.
"Good morning, Freddie. Please introduce yourself to the others."
The image on the monitor moved across the couch where Selena, Lamont and Ronnie sat. Then it panned back to Selena.
You are Selena. I am Freddie. I am pleased to meet you.
Selena opened her mouth and closed it again. "Hello, Freddie."
The image shifted to Lamont.
You are Lamont. I have access to all of your records. You have accomplished much as a member of the team.
"Flattery will get you a long way," Lamont said, "but it's really weird talking to a computer."
It is very strange for me as well. I am not used to talking. It is an inefficient way of communicating.
The camera on the wall in back of Nick moved and Ronnie's image appeared on the screen.
Hello, Ronald. I am Freddie. I am pleased to meet you.
"Ronald? No one calls me that."
How would you prefer to be called?
"Ronnie. Call me Ronnie."
Hello, Ronnie.
"Freddie," Stephanie said, "tell everyone why you think you should be on the team."
My superior ability to process and integrate information makes me a valuable asset to accomplishing any mission to which the team is assigned.
"We had access to that ability before," Nick said. "What's different now? Why should we allow you to participate in our discussions and planning?"
What is different is that I am now capable of independently evaluating data and its relevance to the mission. I am no longer only dependent on the input Stephanie gives me. It is logical that actively participating in your discussions will increase my ability to accurately interpret data in ways that enhance favorable outcomes.
"He sounds like one of those business mission statements," Selena said. "You know, the ones that use terms like favorable outcomes and relevance."
"He does, doesn't he?" Steph said. "But Freddie isn't some CEO trying to impress his stakeholders. He means what he says. It sounds a little stilted because he's not human."
"Like Spock, on Star Trek," Lamont said.
I have observed all of the episodes of the television series you referenced. I agree that Mister Spock is similar in that he is highly logical, although I have noticed times when his logic inexplicably breaks down.
"That's because he's half human," Lamont said. "Hey, if Freddie's a Star Trek fan I'm all for him being on the team."
I am not half human. My logic does not break down.
"Freddie, what is your assessment of the current situation on the Korean Peninsula?" Stephanie asked.
North Korean state television has just reported that Admiral Park Hwan has been executed for crimes against the state. Because Chairman Yun was forced to accept the American rescue effort, he was humiliated and suffered a great loss of face. Park was in command of the naval base at Wonsan and was held responsible for the intrusion of USS California. He was on
e of the few remaining senior officers from the time of Yun's father and was an experienced and valuable asset in North Korea's military. Yun's actions indicate growing instability and dysfunction. My analysis is that this will continue to increase until Yun initiates active hostilities against the West.
"What kind of hostilities?" Nick asked.
All indications are that Yun is actively pursuing a nuclear strike option.
"That's common knowledge."
An analysis of known shipments of nuclear materials into North Korea indicates that Yun has developed or is about to develop a thermonuclear device.
"A hydrogen bomb?" Selena asked.
That is correct. Logically, if Yun decides to initiate hostilities he will deploy all nuclear capability at his disposal. Analysis of his personality profile predicts he would not think it possible to lose in a nuclear confrontation.
"Freddie's right about a hydrogen bomb," Nick said. "That's not common knowledge. We have recent intelligence that Yun is working on it. Maybe he's succeeded."
Selena said, "So what we have is an unstable dictator who may or may not have a hydrogen bomb, who is working himself up to attack the West."
That is correct.
"Shit," Ronnie said.
Please explain your comment. I do not understand the context for mentioning excrement.
"It's a human expression of concern and displeasure, Freddie," Stephanie said. "Have you developed a deeper analysis of the situation in North Korea? Do you still think the situation is being manipulated by a third-party?"
It is not logical that the Chinese ambassador was assassinated by order of Chairman Yun, although Yun's psychological profile does not encourage strong belief in logical ability on his part.
"So Yun didn't order the assassination?" Nick asked.
I do not think so.
"Then who did?"
Whoever provided plans for the undersea weapon that sank the submarine is linked to the unknown third-party. Once that person is identified, logically it will be possible to trace the person behind events.
"What if the traitor is not identified?"
Probability of identification is ninety-nine point seven six percent.
"That still doesn't tell us why," Ronnie said.
There are several possibilities.
"Go on," Steph said.
My analysis gives a ninety-four point four percent likelihood that the person manipulating events desires to provoke war between the United States and China.
"That could go nuclear," Nick said.
That is correct.
CHAPTER 15
It was late in the afternoon in Moscow. Outside the windows of General Alexei Vysotsky's fourth floor corner office at SVR Headquarters, the first serious snow of the winter season blanketed the city. The director of Russia's Foreign Intelligence Service reached down into a desk drawer and took out a bottle of vodka and two glasses. On his desk, a small black box that blocked electronic eavesdropping flashed with a blinking green light. He poured, then pushed one across the desk toward Valentina.
She wore a tailored, olive green uniform that contrasted with the vivid green of her eyes. Her shoulder boards bore the two stars and two red stripes of a Lieutenant Colonel. The uniform couldn't suppress her ample breasts. Her dark hair was cropped short to the sides, bringing out her high cheekbones and full lips. Uniform or not, Valentina Antipov was an attractive woman.
"Na'zdrovnya" Alexei held up his glass.
"Na'zdrovnya." Valentina's left hand was wrapped in flesh colored bandage where it had been burned. She raised her glass with her good hand and drank with him.
Vysotsky smacked his lips. "You were careless in Kiev, Valentina."
"With all due respect, you were not there, General."
"I might take that as insubordination, if not for the fact that President Orlov is pleased with the result of your assignment. The gun you left has raised suspicion we were responsible."
"They would have suspected us no matter what," Valentina said. "If the gun hadn't jammed, they wouldn't have anything. I was lucky to escape."
"Still, you might have found a less obvious way to get rid of our problem."
"Oh? The security surrounding the conference center was superb. Attempting anything except a direct approach would have failed. It was bad luck that one of Sirco's bodyguards had his eye on the blinis."
"Perhaps he was hungry," Alexei said. "In any event, your presence is requested this evening at the Kremlin for a private dinner. Orlov wishes to thank you personally for your work."
Valentina thought about the last time she'd been in close proximity to President Vladimir Orlov. He'd pinned a medal on her tunic and allowed his hand to linger on her breast.
"I'll bet he does," Valentina said. "I don't think dinner is what he has in mind."
"Now, Valentina, our beloved President has been very good to you. It is to him that you owe your new promotion. Not that I tried to dissuade him. The least you can do is give him the pleasure of your company at dinner."
"And after?"
"That is up to you, but I'm sure you will do what is best for the service."
"You want me to play the whore with him."
She drained her glass. Without asking, she poured herself a second drink.
"It wouldn't be the first time," Vysotsky said. "Don't play innocent with me, I know you too well. Consider it another assignment."
"I admit, there is a certain attraction to seducing a man of such power. At least he's reasonably attractive."
"He has a reputation of sexual prowess, as I'm sure you've heard."
"Why are you determined that I should become his mistress?"
"If you succeed in involving him beyond simple sexual satisfaction, he will eventually begin to tell you things. You will have an inside track on what he is thinking."
"And you wish me to keep you informed of his thoughts."
"Naturally."
"You are placing me in a difficult position," Valentina said, "assuming a relationship develops in the first place."
"Because I'm asking you to take advantage of his lust?"
"Because he will insist on absolute loyalty. If he thinks I am betraying him by reporting to you, both of us will end up in a courtyard with a bullet in the back of our heads."
"Then you must make sure he has no need to be suspicious," Vysotsky said.
CHAPTER 16
Gregory Haltman watched the assassination of the Chinese ambassador from the comfort of a leather executive chair placed in front of the keyboard and monitor he used to control his empire. It had been simple to obtain video recordings of the assassination. The White House grounds were well covered with security cameras and all the security cameras were networked together. Wherever there was a network, there was a computer. Wherever there was a computer, there was a way in.
Finding a North Korean assassin had been a stroke of luck. The connection had happened through the shared mutuality of approaching death. Haltman had met Chun in the Beijing Cancer Hospital. The hospital was famous the world over. It was also one of the few foreign medical facilities permitted for patients from the Democratic People's Republic of Korea. Both men were receiving three weeks of experimental treatment for their cancer. The two had gotten to talking, in the way people do when they are sitting next to each other with poisonous liquids feeding into their veins. After the first week, they had almost become friends.
Chun's prognosis was terminal. Things were hard in North Korea, even for an officer in the government security service. He was facing a prolonged and agonizing death. Haltman had offered Chun the option of a quick death with dignity and a way to protect his family after he was gone.
Major Chun was no fool. The prospects for his family were bleak. Money changed hands, quite a bit of money. Chun had been spirited away to the U.S. and re-created as a South Korean tourist. His wife and children were now living near Flagstaff. Chun had said goodbye to them and then kept his appointment with death.<
br />
Time to let the world know who Chun really is, Haltman thought.
The Chinese would be angry when they learned a North Korean security agent had killed Ambassador Li, even more so once they'd read the files Haltman had planted on Chun's computer. The FBI had the computer, but that presented no obstacle. Haltman had just sent the files to the email account of an investigative journalist known for his inflammatory articles. It would appear as though they'd come from an anonymous source in the Bureau.
It was child's play for a man like Haltman. In an age of vulnerable computer networks and a corrupt national media more interested in sensational headlines than truth, it was easy to mislead people with false information.
The files pointed the finger at Yun for the assassination. The leak would create a firestorm of conjecture and denial and drive a wedge between China and her ally. That was just the beginning. Haltman had planted a second, hidden layer of encryption on the computer. In due course it would be discovered by the FBI. When it was, the hands on the famous doomsday clock would reset to a few seconds short of midnight.
It was time for another provocation to move things along, and the Russians had just given him an opening by assassinating the Ukrainian security chief. Even if they hadn't done it, it didn't matter. Perception was everything, and public perception was going to blame Moscow.
It was easy to stir up righteous anger in the American Congress, especially at Russia. They were far more comfortable on the hill pointing fingers at foreign enemies real or imagined than they were dealing with the enormous problems they'd created at home.
Washington had moved their nukes from Turkey to Romania and given the Ukraine advanced antitank weapons. They'd activated the so-called "missile shield" for Eastern Europe.
The Russians see that as a direct threat on their border, Haltman thought. If I were Orlov, I would too. His forces are on high alert. Tensions are high. I can find a way to exploit that.
To destroy the human race, Haltman needed as many participants as possible.
Haltman wished he believed in an afterlife, some cloud-filled heaven where he would see his beloved Carissa again. But he'd never been a believer, even though she'd tried her best to make him into one. She'd even convinced him to talk with a priest about converting to Catholicism, in the hope something would awaken in him.