by Joe Nobody
The Cyber Ace executive nodded, “Yes, it is possible. At a minimum, they would have constructed a backup site.”
“Are you both saying that we are chasing a red herring?” the marshal asked, his frustration mounting.
“In large part,” Sutherland acknowledged. “Blowing whatever facility is housing Gravity Well to kingdom come won’t eliminate the threat. The reason I’ve been encouraging Dr. Mahajan to continue his search is that I believe a physical location will lead us to the criminal behind all this. If we know who owns or rents, pays the utility bills, and maintains the facility, we have a better chance of identifying the brain trust that created this monster.”
At that moment, a huge smile of satisfaction spread across Mahajan’s face. Glancing up from his computer monitor, “I have the address,” he announced, reading off a number and street from a Seattle suburb. “It’s an industrial park 15 miles northeast of downtown. That is ground zero – the location that is sucking down all of the damaged internet packets.”
Griffin was already reaching for his cell phone, intent on letting Washington know the results.
Before the marshal could punch a button, Kit’s soft touch stopped him. “Sutherland may be right, Griff. We need to think about this for a second.”
The JASON nodded, “What you are planning won’t do a bit of good, Marshal Stone. We could nuke that location and Gravity Well would survive. We must cut off the snake’s head.”
Taking a deep breath, Griffin stiffened his spine and prepared to argue, but then hesitated. In the last few weeks, his faith in authority and the “system” had been shaken. It occurred to him that the only person he really trusted was Kit. “Okay, I’ll give you all about two minutes to convince me that I shouldn’t let my superiors know that address.”
Sutherland spoke first, “If the authorities descend on that location, Gravity Well’s masters will simply fade away into thin air. They are obviously wealthy, powerful, and extremely intelligent. They clearly have resources, probably on an international scale. If I were in their shoes, I would simply regroup somewhere else, and let my computer-beast loose again. Only this time, I wouldn’t play around. Not only would I drop the electrical grid, but I’d shut down the cell towers, land lines, and the entire internet until my demands were met.”
“Governments would fall,” Kit speculated, her thoughts exploring a troubling future. “People would revolt. Industry would shut down. Food and fuel shortages would devastate the land. The entire country… hell, maybe even the entire world would burn.”
“We don’t even know what demands they have,” Griffin argued.
“All the more reason not to attack what essentially is a façade… a false front,” Mahajan added, his statement making it clear that he sided with Sutherland.
“So, the computer stronghold could be easily moved? Transported to another location?” the marshal asked, his mind racing with the enormity of the situation.
“Yes,” Sutherland and the doctor responded in unison. The JASON expanded, “They could be downloaded into a device no larger than a large briefcase, if necessary. Later, the software could be uploaded and started again.”
“Why did they collect all of those servers then?” Griff quipped, now confused. “Why was there a shortage a few years ago?”
“They needed that much digital horsepower to teach Gravity Well… to process all of the information they were gathering and have it learn patterns. To assimilate data, evaluate it. Now its neural net has been configured and matured. Think of it like this. It would take a warehouse to store every book I have ever read, but the sum of all those pages is stored up here,” Sutherland said, pointing to his brain.
Mahajan tried to press the point even further, “Any software can be placed into a suspended state and awakened later. I think it’s reasonable to assume that even Gravity Well’s code could be stored in a very small storage device.”
“What do we do?” Griffin snapped, “Rome is burning, gentlemen. I keep hearing you geniuses telling me what not to do. What is the solution?”
Sutherland chuckled, “Why that’s easy, Marshal Stone. You and Ms. Carson do what you’re best at – be detectives. We must figure out who is behind this. Once we know that, I’m praying the next move will be obvious.”
“And if you’re wrong?” Griffin pushed back. “Millions of lives are on the line here, perhaps our entire way of life. Are all of you absolutely sure we shouldn’t follow the chain of command and call Washington?”
Kit’s voice then cut through the din, “Let’s do both.”
All eyes zeroed on the lady prosecutor. She continued, “We just need to get the timing right. Consider how we three have come to know this threat over a period of time… and had time to contemplate what the intent is behind it. For that reason, I think that there are clearer heads here than the situation room back at the White House. Now, this damn silicone demon has been one step ahead of us since we got on its trail, and I for one am sick of being outsmarted. So, let’s figure out who is holding its leash, and then tell Washington where the hardware is located. The proprietors will probably make a break for it when all hell breaks loose, and hopefully, Marshal Storm and I will be there to snare them red-handed.”
Griffin’s smile was genuine for the first time in a long while. “I’m in,” he simply responded.
They immediately set to work, retrieving tax records, utility bills, and any history available on the address outside Seattle.
The building was leased, Kit taking less than five minutes to eliminate the property’s owners as suspects. “It’s an older couple that lives in Hawaii,” she stated, turning her laptop around so the others could see a picture of the grey-haired investors. “According to their social media page, they’ve been on a 15-day cruise that left for Singapore last week.”
“Hard to mastermind the overthrow of the known civilized world from a cruise ship. Everybody knows they have limited internet access,” Griff observed. “So, who is leasing the property?”
Frowning, Kit’s focus returned to the screen. “An investment trust named North Bay Capital.”
“Let me guess,” the marshal grumbled, “North Bay Capital is owned by a front corporation, that is owned by another paper tiger, that is controlled by an offshore trust?”
She merely nodded, now wondering if not calling Washington immediately was a good strategy. “I’ve traced it through six levels so far. Whoever set this up knew what they were doing.”
“Maybe we should try a different path,” Griff suggested. “Dr. Mahajan, didn’t you say the venture capital company that funded Cyber Ace pointed you away from security software you were developing? Maybe we should run that thread.”
“On it,” Kit nodded, her fingers again going back to work.
Fifteen minutes passed before she glanced up from her computer. “I might have a match here. There is one name that appears on both threads. William Thomas Foster is on the board of directors of at least one company associated with Techventures and one of the trust funds that was involved with leasing the building in Seattle.
“William Foster? You mean the William Foster? The guy who started one of the world’s largest software companies? One of the wealthiest men on planet earth?” Sutherland asked, unable to keep the astonishment out of his tone.
“One and the same,” Kit replied. “He even has a residence in Seattle, not far from his corporation’s headquarters.”
Mahajan spoke next, his voice barely a whisper. “That actually makes sense. I met him about a year ago… he was the keynote speaker at a technology conference I attended. He congratulated me on Cyber Ace’s success. I was stunned that he even knew about my company. We are so small and insignificant in the grand scheme of things.”
“He is definitely a man who would have the resources to build something like Gravity Well,” Kit added, scanning the technology titan’s IRS records.
“But why?” Griffin again asked. “That
guy doesn’t need money. I just read he was donating billions to charity because there was no way he could ever spend all his dough. He has no motive.”
“If we’re going to accost Mr. Foster, we better have more proof than just being a director of a couple of investment firms. We need a lot more,” Kit added.
“Maybe he pays the electric bill for Gravity Well,” Griffin smirked. “That much computer firepower surely requires a ton of juice.”
“It would use more water than electricity,” Mahajan mumbled, the geek unable to let a false technical assumption pass.
“Huh?” the prosecutor said. “What did you say?”
“Water… that many computer servers would require a lot of water for cooling. Either they are buying it from the city, or they purchased some very, very special equipment to cool and recycle.”
Again, Kit’s hands moved over the keyboard. “There’s no city building permit or inspection of any special cooling apparatus. Checking… wait… I’ve got it!”
“What?” everyone demanded at the same moment.
“Apparently, the water main feeding Gravity Well’s nest had to be modified. The work was performed shortly after the lease was signed. There’s a picture on Facebook, the construction crew standing and smiling with none other than Mr. William Foster. He was there. He inspected their work and then posed for a selfie with the workmen.”
“That’s thin,” Griffin whispered, “but still enough to bring him in for questioning.”
“I think he’ll run if things get too hot. He’ll throw a platoon of lawyers at us and then flee. Hell, according to Forbes, he has residences in 14 different countries,” Kit replied.
Before anyone could throw out any additional comments, a loud pounding shook the front door. “That would be our ride to the airport,” Griffin assumed.
With a hand on his holstered pistol and the gold shield in clear view, the marshal stepped to the front door. Sure enough, four uniformed San Jose police officers stood out front.
After opening Cyber Ace’s door, a sergeant stepped inside. “You Marshal Storm?”
“Yes. Assistant US Attorney Carson is upstairs. I’ll get her.”
“Hurry,” the patrolman exhaled. “It’s turning into a real jungle out there. The electricity has only been out for four hours, and we’re already getting reports of looting and arson. Traffic is a snarled mess.”
Nodding, Griff disappeared up the stairs, followed by the two cops assigned to babysit Dr. Mahajan. A minute later, with Sutherland in tow, the threesome was ready for their ride to the airport.
As Kit and the JASON squeezed into the police cruiser’s back seat, Griff loaded their bags into the trunk. “Hey, sergeant, see that Chevy suburban over there?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s stolen. I recovered it this evening before everything went to hell. You’ll find two AK-47 rifles, four handguns, and some other stuff inside. I also moved a third battle rifle into Cyber Ace’s building… for protection.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. In addition to that, there are four dead bodies in a barn about twenty miles south of town. On the way to the airport, I’ll show you where to find them on a map.”
“You’re telling me all this just before you fly off into the wild, blue yonder? Thanks for that, Marshal. What a guy.”
“I’ll come back and help sort it all out. I promise,” Griffin grinned, knowing he’d just handed the local cop a nightmare of paperwork and associated headaches.
Finally loaded, they left for the San Jose airport.
In the backseat of the squad car, Griffin reached for his cell phone. Quickly thumbing through the contacts, he tapped a number and waited while the call went through.
The first attempt failed, an automated, robotic female voice informing the marshal that his call couldn’t be placed at this time due to unusually high volume. “I bet,” he smirked, immediately redialing.
Twice more he tried, both attempts failing in the same manner. “Everybody on the Pacific Coast must be calling a friend or family member. Gravity Well is a boon for the cell phone companies.”
“Here, try this,” Sutherland offered, reaching into his jacket and producing an extra-large mobile phone. “It’s one of Uncle Sam’s latest satellite models.”
The JASON quickly taught Griff how to use the device, and a few moments later, his call was going through.
“Deputy Colburn,” answered a gruff, impatient voice.
“Jerry? Griffin Storm,” the marshal responded.
“Griff? Well Hell’s bells, son. I was just telling somebody that we were in the middle of a shitstorm, and look who drops in – one of my favorite turds.”
“I’ll skip the pleasantries, my old friend, mainly because you don’t deserve any. Do you know a well-to-do man that lives in your neck of the woods by the name of Foster? William Foster?”
“You mean the billionaire Foster? The software guy?”
“Yeah, one and the same,” Griffin replied.
“I know of him. Never met the man personally. Certainly not on his Christmas card list. Why?”
“I need someone to track his whereabouts. It’s urgent. Really urgent, like the most important thing you’ve ever done in your life.”
A whistle trilled through the phone, then, “Good gravy, Griff. When you go fishing, you don’t fuck around with the minnows. While I’d love to accommodate you, we’re a little busy up here at the moment. In case you haven’t heard, the country is under attack.”
“I know that, Jerry. I’m down in San Jose, rolling for the airport to catch a plane that the attorney general is sending personally. We’re on our way to Seattle, at the man’s behest. I need eyes on Foster, and if you need a call from Washington to adjust your priorities, I can arrange that.”
There was silence on the other end for longer than Griff liked. Finally, the Seattle-based marshal agreed. “Okay, Griff, no need to prove to me how connected you are. Do you want us to pick Foster up?”
“No, I just need to know where he is. Unless he tries to leave the country, just keep him under surveillance, please.”
“Okay. I’ll do my best.”
“Thanks, Jerry. I’ll call you as soon as we land. Oh, and one more question, is there any way to find out if Foster has a private plane, and where it’s located?”
The question was answered with a grunt, then, “Doesn’t matter if you’re worried about him flying out. The FAA has shut down all flights, commercial and private. They’re concerned about the backup generators running out of fuel if the electricity doesn’t come back on. I guess it’s hard to control air traffic without radar and radios.”
“Good to know, Jerry. Thanks. Please keep this just between us. I’ll explain later. Talk to you in a couple of hours.”
Chapter 16
He had anticipated this day would come, had planned for it since he’d aimed Gravity Well at the federal government. It was time to evacuate.
Despite his palatial residence, extensive art collection, and furnishings that would have bankrupted most small countries, William didn’t consider himself a material person. While he enjoyed his eclectic assortment of paintings and sculptures, he was always quick to inform the rare visitor of his unorthodox philosophy, saying, “I own them; they don’t own me.”
After giving Gravity Well one last series of commands, he rose and switched off the computer. “That should do the trick,” he whispered. “All Hell will break loose now. It’s time to get out.”
He entered the master suite, a grimace crossing his face as he passed by the custom-made furniture. He loved that bed, its comfort probably the only thing he’d miss. He made a mental note to see about having it duplicated once he’d settled in.
A small overnight bag was already packed and ready, a habit he’d developed long ago. Back in the day, when he was building his company, unplanned trips for business were a common occurrence. He’d lost count of how
many hastily scheduled meetings had seen him arrive rumpled and wrinkled, but on time.
William had no false expectations about the US government’s resources or his ability to avoid capture. He wasn’t a criminal mastermind, and he didn’t believe for a second that his wealth or influence was a get out of jail free card.
No, the authorities, sooner or later, would come for him. His objective was to be long gone before they arrived. Gravity Well, or at least a copy of the program, would travel with him.
He also didn’t consider the need to run as a hardship. He lounged at private residences all over the globe, including a few in countries that didn’t have extradition treaties with the USA. He enjoyed a myriad of water sports on his private island in the South China Sea. For a change of pace, the luxury of his penthouse suite in Bahrain offered an amazing nightclub scene, and the country estate outside of Moscow afforded peace, quiet and solitude.
A preponderance of his liquid assets was secreted with his family in Switzerland, a nation that was known to deny extradition requests.
On his way out of the master, William passed by his office, securing his second piece of luggage.
The sealed, titanium briefcase was nearly identical to the device containing the launch codes for the US nuclear arsenal that always accompanied the president. In fact, William had plagiarized the code name, referring to his carry-on as the “football.”
Inside its hard case, were nestled a GPS tracking unit, power supply, and as much high-density memory as would fit. A non-active copy of Gravity Well resided there, the latest backup of the neural net’s essence. William thought of it as the AI system’s soul.
In a way, storing his creation inside the football was fitting. Gravity Well, in the wrong hands, was the most powerful weapon ever created. It could not only obliterate any nation’s economy and infrastructure; it could rebuild it as well. “Risk is dead. Uncertainty extinct,” he whispered, hefting the weighty case.
Yet, the system was just a tool. “The most sophisticated, learned, adaptive hammer in history,” he smirked. While the last series of commands he had issued would make it appear as though his creation were self-aware, William knew better. “Show people what they want to believe, and they will embrace it, no matter how ridiculous.”