Brave New World

by David Archer

  “Now,” Sam said, taking the floor again, “imagine that these chips were embedded in soldiers on the battlefield. Communication is almost instantaneous, much faster than sending a radio message that has to be received by a radio operator, passed to a commanding officer, and then spread throughout an entire platoon or company. Soldiers like that could all receive orders at the same exact moment, but with the use of computers, they could each receive orders specifically relevant to their position.”

  Denny Cortlandt nodded. “My superiors would have loved that, back in MI6. Commo was one of the things that always seemed to be problematic.”

  Sam nodded. “It always is, in combat especially. Another example might be terrorists. Imagine an entire terrorist cell that was capable of acting almost as a single entity. There would be no need for them to congregate in one place to discuss plans for an attack, because they would all know the plan instantly once it was created and transmitted.”

  “Holy God,” Cortlandt said. “And they could surely create some sort of receiver so that someone with a chip could, for instance, detonate a bomb or fire a weapon, even though he might be miles away. Am I correct?”

  “Yes,” Joel said, “only it can go much further than that. We’ve already developed a car that I can drive without ever touching the steering wheel or the controls. I can literally sit in the back seat, and control the car just with my mind, or drive it from a remote location using video cameras and screens. Now, with the generation five chip, it would be possible to apply that same level of technology to, for instance, a jet fighter. With all of the satellites in orbit, the pilot could sit safely in an air base somewhere while also flying a plane to deliver mass destruction to an enemy target.” He grinned. “I've even done some limited work with a robot avatar. Using virtual reality goggles so that I can see what its cameras are looking at, I sat in an easy chair while part of my consciousness roamed around our facility on robotic wheels. I was able to control it well enough to have conversations with people, pick up and read a newspaper, turn on its built-in video camera to get some embarrassing recordings of some of my friends, get myself a cup of coffee and add the right amount of sugar, and then bring it back without spilling a drop. If my robot were equipped with a machine gun, I could have gone to war without ever leaving the comfort of my Lazy Boy.”

  “See what I mean?” Sam asked. “I wouldn't be willing to assume that whoever wanted this chip has altruistic motives. This is some of the most powerful technology that’s ever been developed. To take Joel’s example just a little bit further, this technology would make it possible to send the Terminator, and a thousand of his brothers, to fight our next war. And if it falls into the wrong hands, it could be us on the receiving end.”

  “The problem,” Summer said, “is that just about anyone with a basic understanding of what this chip can do could imagine thousands of possible scenarios for it. I’m assuming, simply because I understand human nature and the way our government works, that C-Link has an agreement with Uncle Sam to make sure any military applications are only ours, am I correct?”

  “That’s my understanding, yes,” Sam said. “The point is, we have got to find that chip and bring it back, and we’ve got to make absolutely certain that whoever got it is prevented from putting it to use or bringing it to market. This is a case of industrial espionage, to be sure, but first and foremost it’s crime of theft, and that’s how we must approach it. Beyond that, however, there is no doubt that this case holds dire implications for our national security. I’m fairly certain we’ll be hearing about that any day now.”

  He looked around at the members of his team. “Steve and Walter, you already have your assignments. Denny, I want you on chatter, pulling any possible favors that you or Ron and Jeff might have available, and find out if there’s any intelligence out there about this chip. Jade, I want you and Summer to start looking at possible buyers for the stolen chip. There are a number of companies out there that are working on this technology, and one of them is the most likely customer. In particular, I want you to check out a Chinese company that has labs in both the U.S. and Canada. It's called Fa Ling Bioengineering, and they’ve been just recently talking about an upcoming announcement about new developments and possible human trials. If they’ve suddenly had a miraculous revelation that lets them make strides in the field, fine, but if they were counting on getting hold of a chip that was already set for human implantation, then I want to know it. Darren, I want you to study everything you can find on Doctor Williamson and Mr. McGill, try to get me some understanding of what made those men tick. I need to know what kind of motivation might have been used on Doctor Williamson, in particular. McGill was a known quantity who did these things for money. Still, there might be something in his personality that could give us a clue as to who his clients might have been.” He clapped his hands once. “That’s it. Travel is authorized if necessary, no limits. Let’s go find this thing. Oh, wait, one more thing. You’ve all heard stories about my wife, Indie, and her abilities with a computer. She is available as a consultant on this case, and if you will see Jenna, she’ll give you her cell number. Just bear in mind that she has a four-month-old baby at home, so she may have to get back to you. See me if you have any specific questions or suggestions, but otherwise, let’s get to work.”

  All six of the investigators got up and headed out of the office, some of them talking quietly among themselves. Jenna quietly shut down the video screen and went back to her desk, leaving Sam and Joel alone once again.

  “What about you?” Sam asked. “Any questions or suggestions?”

  “Not yet,” Joel said. “I’m just watching and observing.”

  8

  Sam told Joel to go take a break and have a cup of coffee, then sat down at his desk and took out his phone to call Indie. She answered almost immediately, and Sam could hear the smile in her voice.

  “So, how goes the first day at the new office?”

  “Would you believe I've already got people coming from across the country to see me? And I just spent an hour briefing my team about the case and passing out their assignments. I’m starting to feel like the watch commander back when I was a patrol officer.”

  “Ha, ha,” Indie said. “You know good and well you’re not going to get off that easy. Ron said you have to run point on the whole investigation. What does that mean, anyway, run point?”

  “It means that when a lead turns up, I’m probably going to have to get on a plane and go follow up on it myself. By the way, I got all the HR forms done this morning. It’ll take a few days for the insurance to kick in, but it’s absolutely excellent insurance. Covers everything, and I do mean everything. I figure Ron and Jeff must be making an awful lot of money to provide this level of benefits.”

  “Yeah, well, I get the feeling they earn it. They’re the ones who have to keep bringing in the big, high-paying clients. All you have to do is go out there and catch the bad guys.”

  “That’s true. Listen, the real reason I was calling was to check in with Herman. Any developments?”

  “I don’t even know,” Indie said. “Your son has been keeping me pretty busy today. Give me a minute and let me check.”

  Sam waited for a couple of minutes while she went to the computer and began looking at the links Herman had been throwing up. He could hear her mumbling to herself as she checked several, but then she said, “Oh, hello. This is interesting.”

  “What have you got?” Sam asked.

  “Rebecca McGill showed up on a traffic camera, walking away from—I guess it’s a gas station, about ten o’clock yesterday morning. I’m looking at the next link, and it’s her again. She’s standing at a bus stop, and there she’s getting on the bus. Next link, this is almost an hour later, she’s walking toward the camera, but she veers off and gets into a taxi cab. That’s it, lost her after that.”

  “That’s interesting,” Sam said. “The article we saw yesterday said her car had been found abandoned, and that sh
e had apparently taken money out of an ATM. What you’re describing sounds like someone who’s trying to stay off the radar, and I can’t help wondering about the story the lawyer told. I don’t suppose you could find out who he was, could you?”

  He heard Indie chuckle. “That article was from the LA Times. Let me find it again, and I’ll see if I can get anything out of the reporter’s computer. I’ll call you back.”

  “Okay, babe. Love you!”

  Indie hung up and Sam started thinking about what she had told him. If Mrs. McGill was running scared, then Sam would bet the lawyer wasn't telling the truth about what happened between them. Something about the article had almost seemed off when he had read it, but at the time he had been more focused on the claim that Rebecca knew what her husband had been doing that got him killed.

  On the other hand, if she was aware of the fact she was in danger, she might act exactly the way the lawyer said she did. The only question in Sam’s mind was where the lawyer fit into it.

  Suddenly it dawned on Sam why he had wondered about the article. The lawyer had said Mrs. McGill had wanted to sell her information to the police, but that wouldn’t make a lot of sense. If he had said she wanted to sell it to a news organization, that might have been believable, but it wasn't likely that anyone would actually expect the police to pay much for anything. On the other hand, if she really did know what Mac had been doing and went to the lawyer for help in capitalizing on it, that implied that the lawyer would know where to sell it.

  There were really only three potential markets that might pay a substantial sum. One of them would naturally be C-Link, the injured party. If she knew who her husband sold the chip to, that information could be worth a lot. The second would be selling her silence, and that would mean selling it to the people who ended up with the chip.

  The third possibility, of course, was selling it as an exclusive to a news organization. Considering the potential uses of the chip, a revelation of that magnitude would translate into ratings that would tempt any of them. That didn’t seem to be what she was after, though, or the lawyer would have said so to cover his own ass. It almost had to be one of the first two scenarios.

  If any of these theories were true, and he had a chance to help any potential buyer get a handle on such potentially incriminating information, Sam couldn't imagine too many attorneys who would turn down the chance to get a fairly large slice of a pretty big pie. They were almost entirely about money or power, and this situation just plain oozed with both.

  If Mrs. McGill had actually been running from the lawyer, however, then all of this suddenly made a lot of sense. The only mystery then was where she would go.

  Sam was interrupted by the beeping of the intercom on his desk phone. He punched button one and said, “Yes?”

  “Mr. Beck would like to speak to you,” Jenna said.

  “Yes, send him in.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jenna said, and the intercom line cut off. A moment later, the office door opened and Steve Beck stepped into the room.

  Sam looked up and smiled. “Steve,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

  “Got a question for you,” Steve said. “I’m curious about what you want me to do in San Francisco. Am I just going to babysit Walter?”

  Sam’s eyes popped open wide. “No, not at all,” he said. “I want you there to be looking at how the staff and management act. Personally, I get the feeling that there’s something more to this case than meets the eye, and I don’t for a minute believe that Doctor Williamson pulled the theft off on his own. Joel says he knew Williamson. The man wasn't computer literate, so he probably could not have messed with the computer to shut off the cameras. As for pulling the plug or turning off the video router, I looked at that from a layman’s eye and, had it been me, I’d’ve expected that to cause some sort of problem that would lead right back to me. I don’t think Williamson would have thought of it on his own, so that leads me to the conclusion that someone else at C-Link is involved. Whoever it was is probably pretty upset about not getting his share of the payday, so I want you to take a look around and see if you can come up with a suspect.”

  Steve grinned and took a sheet of paper out of his shirt pocket. “I wasn't sure exactly what you had in mind, so I've been kinda brainstorming on this. These are my notes, take a look.”

  Sam looked down at the sheet of paper Steve was passing to him.

  Williamson acted alone? I don’t think so.

  Someone else involved. Probably someone close to chip project.

  Someone didn’t get reward, probably pissed off.

  Possible someone else benefits if chip is gone? What other projects might be on the back burner because of chip?

  Sam grinned and looked up at Steve. “Great minds think alike,” he said. “Good thinking on checking out the other projects. That didn’t occur to me, but if another project is suddenly going to be viable with the chip out of the way, that’s a potential motive.” He handed the sheet of paper back. “Got all your arrangements made?”

  Steve nodded. “Yeah. Walter and I are flying out in about an hour on a NetJets charter, but we won’t get to talk to anyone today. I spotted Joel in the break room and had him arrange a hotel room out there for us, and his guy Harper will pick us up there in the morning.”

  “Sounds good. Tell me about Walter. You guys been out together before?”

  “Yeah, many times. Ron sometimes refers to me as Walter’s handler, because he can get pretty distracted and upset when he doesn’t have someone he trusts close by. He’s definitely a genius at what he does, I can say that. I've seen him walk through a crime scene that was picked over for hours by CSI techs and spot a dozen things they missed. Some of the stuff he notices would never even occur to anybody else, but to him it’s just another piece of the puzzle that he wants to put together. A few months back, we had to go to London to figure out how a painting was taken out of an art museum in broad daylight, while the place was open. It was literally there one minute, and gone the next. Local police were stumped, Interpol didn’t have a clue, and so somebody asked for Walter. Ron sent me out with him and I swear, Sam, we hadn’t been on the scene thirty seconds when Walter looks at me and says, ‘I see it.’ I asked him what he meant, and then he explains that the painting went out with a bunch of trash.”

  Sam’s eyebrows popped up again. “The thief put it in a trash can?”

  Steve was grinning. “Nope. See, what happened was that the museum was being redecorated. A whole section had to be repainted, so the museum staff carefully took all of the paintings down and put them into a storage room. A security guard stood beside the door and kept a watch for the six hours it took the painters to do their job, and then he opened the door so the staff could put the paintings back up. When they got to that particular one, they carried it and then hung it up, then took off the sheet they put over it to protect it and that’s when they saw the painting was gone.”

  Sam cocked his head slightly and looked at Steve suspiciously. “Okay, I know there’s a catch here somewhere,” he said. “Spill it, will you? The suspense is killing me.”

  Steve laughed, and it took him a moment to get himself back under control. “Walter looked at the whole situation, and figured out instantly what had happened. See, everyone thought the painting was stolen out of the storage room, but Walter knew instantly that it never even made it into there. What happened was that they covered each painting before they took them down, then they leaned them individually against the wall. They got them all down and covered, and then they started carrying them to the storage room. Can you figure it out? Walter did.”

  Sam laughed, but he gave Steve a “come on” motion with his hand. “Spit it out, Steve,” he said.

  “It was one of the painters. While everybody was scrambling around making sure paintings got covered up, he slipped behind the one he wanted, took out a pocket knife and cut it out of its frame, then rolled it up in a drop cloth. Once the frames were carried away, he unrol
led it with the painting down underneath the cloth so no one saw it, painted the wall, and then rolled the drop cloth again. While he and all of his helpers were cleaning up after themselves, he just walked out to his truck and tossed the drop cloth inside, then drove off with it. Nobody noticed anything until they tried to hang the paintings back up. When they took the covers off, that one rare Rembrandt was gone.”

  Sam stared at him. “And Walter figured it out that fast?”

  “He sure did. And if you ask him how he knew, he’ll just tell you it was obvious, that there was no other way it could have happened.”

  “And did you get the guy who stole it?”

  “We did. He was apparently pretty careful not to get paint on that section of the cloth, because when we went to his house and found the painting, none had gotten on it. Apparently, he was planning to take it to someone he knew who claimed he could sell it, but he never got the chance because Walter figured him out too quickly.”

  Sam shook his head in amazement. “You get Walter on that plane,” he said, “and you call me as soon as Walter figures out how the chip was stolen. Something tells me we’re all going to be in for a nice big surprise on this.”

  “Not a doubt in my mind,” Steve said. “I’ll let you know, I just wanted to make sure you and I were on the same page.” He waved as he turned around and walked out the door, and Sam simply sat and stared at it for a couple of minutes.

  Sam had heard of autistic adepts before, but never one that was particularly talented at any kind of police work. The only thing he could think of was to offer up a prayer of thanks that Walter was on his team.

  Sam’s cell phone went off suddenly, and a glance told him that it was Indie calling. “Hey, babe,” he said.

  “Hey there,” Indie said. “I got the lawyer’s name. It's Jonathan Landry, and I figured I’d go ahead and let Herman dig around on him a bit, and I think you’re going to be glad I did. This guy is a sleaze ball. You know how some lawyers will do absolutely anything? This guy would do things that they wouldn’t touch. I’m serious, Sam, my Spidey sense is screaming that this guy is dirty.”