by David Archer
“It does more,” Walter said. “It does more than we know about.”
Steve nodded. “I think he’s right,” he said. “There must be something more that this thing can do that we don’t know anything about. You know, if you told me that there was some company that wanted to get their hands on this chip and sell it till they’ve put one in everybody, I could understand that. But you tell me there’s one person out there that wants so bad to have this thing that they’ll pay a ridiculous fortune for it and murder anybody who gets in the way? That’s a bit much for me to swallow. I mean, I know he’s right, Walter’s right, but I cannot for the life of me understand why. What is so special about this freaking chip?”
“We have to find out what else it can do,” Summer said. “These people aren’t being as open and honest with us as they want us to think they are, and that’s making me pretty nervous.”
Jade looked from one to the other, meeting each of their eyes. “I have to agree,” she said. “This is starting to get pretty frightening.”
Summer nodded. “Okay, then,” she said. “It's time to get to the bottom of some things. Steve, who’s in charge here?”
“That would be Dr. Prentiss,” Steve said. “He runs the day to day operations of the place.”
“Well, the first thing we need to do is report in,” Summer said as she thumbed the screen of her iPhone repeatedly. “I’m preparing an email reporting all this back to Mr. Prichard, now. If you got anything you want to include, let me know. And then, as soon as we get done with this, we need to sit down with Dr. Prentiss and get some straight answers.”
Pete was following the conversation with his eyes. “Hey,” he said, “remember me? The guy who needs to go hide for a few years? The one who saved your lives? What about me?”
“I’m not sure we’re done with you yet,” Jade said. “Right now, you know more about Fei than anyone else. You might as well just consider yourself temporarily attached to our investigation.”
“Do what? Oh, come on, you can’t be serious. Do you know what it would do to my street cred if anyone found out I was trying to help you guys?”
“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” Summer said. “Besides, you want witness protection? Then you have to be a witness. You help us out, we’ll make sure nobody knows about it, okay? When this is over, you can go right back to being a worthless street punk. It’ll be like nothing ever changed.”
She took out her phone and called the home office back in Denver, then asked for Ron Thomas. He came on the line only a moment later.
“Summer? What’s up?”
“I need an icebox,” she said. “I’ve got a witness that I need to keep safe, and it could be a pretty big job. The triad we are dealing with is probably after him, and they almost certainly want him dead.”
Pete rolled his eyes and buried his face in his hands.
“Okay,” Ron said. “Let me put you on hold for a couple of minutes.”
Music began to play through the phone, and Summer grimaced. “Can you believe this?” she asked. “The hold music is playing Barry Manilow.”
It was a little more than two minutes later when Ron came back on the line. “Okay, I called in a couple of favors. Your witness is going to enjoy the protection of the United States Marine Corps for a little while. Do you have him there at C-Link HQ?”
“Yep,” she said. “Where you want me to take him?”
“Up to the top of the building. A helicopter is on the way, right now. He’ll be going down to Camp Pendleton, and will be staying under guard in a guesthouse there. I don’t care how many connections the triad has, I don’t see them getting past an entire Marine base.”
Summer broke into a smile. “That sounds perfect,” she said. “How soon will the chopper arrive?”
“Give them about an hour,” Ron said. “I lucked out; a squad of their military police actually just transported to prison from their stockade up to San Fran and will be heading back shortly. I gave them the coordinates of the building, and they can land on the helipad on the roof.”
Summer thanked him and ended the call, then explained it to Pete. He groaned, so she took him to the company cafeteria and bought him lunch.
19
“Becky, Pat,” Sam said, “this is Darren Beecher. Darren is one of the nicest guys we’ve got working here, which is why I've asked him to conduct your interview. He’s been briefed about your situation, so I’ll ask you not to hold anything back.”
“I’ll do my best,” Becky said. “I just wish I knew more that could help.”
“Well,” Darren said as he took a seat across the table from her, “the fact is that you probably know a lot more than you think you do. My job as an interviewer is to help you remember those things, but without influencing what you think about them.” He looked up at Sam. “Shall I get started?”
Sam grinned. “See what I mean about him being a nice guy? That was his very polite way of telling me to get the heck out of the room. I’ll leave you in his hands, and I’ll see you both a little later.” He turned and walked out, and Darren chuckled.
“He’s quite a guy, isn’t he?” he asked.
“I’ll say,” Pat said. “I wish I’d had him working with me back in CID. He is one crack investigator.”
“That he is,” Darren said. “Okay, so let’s get started. Now, Becky, I’d like you to tell me what your relationship with your husband was like. This is to give me some insights into your personality and his, which will aid me in understanding how his mind was working during this particular case.”
Becky glanced at Pat, then back to Darren. “Well, it was probably anything but your typical marriage. I think you know that I was actually a prostitute in Las Vegas when I met him. He became my most regular customer after a little while, and then one day he told me that he was in love with me and wanted to marry me. I told him that wouldn’t make any sense, but he wouldn’t give up the idea. I told him that I liked him, but I didn’t actually love him, and that’s when he decided to make it more of a business proposition. He said if I’d marry him, he would make sure I never wanted for anything and I wouldn't ever have to do that kind of work again.” She shrugged. “It all sounded pretty good, so I finally agreed. I quit the ranch and moved to San Francisco with him, and we were married a week later.”
“Okay, that tells me how the marriage began. What about after that? What was the progression like? I mean, did you start to have romantic feelings for him at some point, or was it always business?”
Becky frowned. “I won’t say that there weren’t moments when I felt like I loved him,” she said. “There were, and I really did care about him. I cried when I found out he was dead, and it still hurts. While I wasn't ever in love with him, we were definitely very good friends. We had a lot of fun together, especially when we just had time to ourselves. I guess that’s what I have to say, we were good friends who happened to be married to each other.”
Darren nodded. “Okay, that makes a lot of sense. To be honest, I think that’s how a lot of couples would describe their relationship if they really thought about it. Now, what about his business? We know he involved you in this particular case, but were there other times you were involved?”
“Oh, there were a couple. Nothing on this scale, of course, but there were a few times when Mac would need me to run an errand or deliver something. I can honestly tell you that I never knew what I was picking up or delivering, and I didn’t want to know. He had assured me that he never dealt with drugs, and that was a big sticking point for me. I never really used drugs myself, but I saw several girls die from drug abuse. I didn’t want any part of the drug business.”
“All right. What about business associates? Did you ever meet any of the people he worked for, or people he said he worked with?”
Becky thought about it for a moment. “There were a few. Sometimes he needed me to go with him to a business dinner or something, and I would just sit there and pretend I was deaf. No matter what they were ta
lking about, if anybody asked my opinion I’d make sure I didn’t have one and try to give the impression that I didn’t even understand the discussion.” She chuckled. “I usually understood it just as well as Mac did, and maybe better. I know there was once or twice when I pointed out something he had missed in the conversation.” She sighed. “Associates, let me think. There was Frank LeTourneau, he was from Miami. Does the same kind of thing Mac did, I think, and they sometimes worked together on projects. There was Alan Jackson, and no, I don’t mean the country singer. This guy was black and probably weighed three hundred pounds. I know that he trades in pharmaceutical research. He doesn’t like me very much, because Mac stopped working with him not long after he and I got together. Pharmaceutical research was too close to drugs for my comfort.”
“Okay, that’s two good results. Any others?”
“Let me think. There was this one guy, I’m trying to remember his name. He was only around a couple of times while I was there, and he was always after high tech stuff. Anything to do with computers or self driving cars, that kind of stuff. Oh, what was his name? You’d think I’d remember, because the guy was constantly flirting with me. He seemed to think I was pretty hot, because every time Mac left the room, he would think of some witty new off-color remark to make. Was it Perkins? Preston? I don’t know, I just can’t remember at the moment.”
“That’s okay,” Darren said. “Let it go for right now, and maybe it will come back later. Any others?”
Becky shook her head. “Oh, wait, there was that lawyer, Landry. I never actually met him until just the other day, but I heard Mac talk to him on the phone once in a while. I’m pretty sure that’s all of them that I ever knew about.”
Darren smiled at her. “I’m actually very impressed at how much you remembered,” he said. “That’s very good. Now, what about your husband’s buyers? The people he sold to. Did you ever meet any of them?”
“Oh, no,” Becky said. “That was one of the rules of his business, he said. He never, ever told anybody who he was selling something to. Not even me, and that’s the truth. He said it was what made him one of the most trusted corporate intel brokers there was.”
“But, in this case, you said he made comments about the buyers. You thought he was saying they were cowards, but we now believe he was saying they were of Chinese descent. Did he say anything else about them?”
Becky scrunched up her face and thought, and after a minute she closed her eyes. “I’m trying to think over all the last two weeks, while that was going on. There was one moment when he was on the phone with somebody, I think it was Landry, and he said something. Just a minute, I’m trying to remember what it was. It was—he said, ‘you tell him it’s my way or no way, or I’ll beat him with that Kevlar leg of his.’ I’m pretty sure that’s what he said, about the Kevlar leg.” She opened her eyes. “Does that make any sense to you?”
Darren smiled. “Actually, I think it does.”
*
Sam read through the report and sat back in his chair, his eyes on the ceiling as he thought about its implications. An attempt on the lives of his investigators was sobering, and Sam wasn't sure how well he would have handled it had either Jade or Summer been killed. It was bad enough that Summer had been wounded, but thankfully she said it wasn't anything serious.
They had done everything properly. Going to the police was necessary, and Sam understood why they didn’t let on that Pete was their informant; organized crime of all types worked hard to cultivate resources inside local police, so downplaying his involvement was a good move.
If Walter was correct in his assumptions, however, and his track record suggested that he probably was, then this entire theft had been orchestrated by a single individual who wanted the chip for himself. The very concept was mind-boggling, but it seemed they were definitely on the right track.
He took out his phone and called Indie. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said. “I need you to put Herman on something for me. It seems that somebody in the San Francisco area is trying to hire a brain surgeon for an extremely delicate operation. Intelligence we’ve managed to gather suggests that the operation is the implantation of the chip. Can you find me every link that’s connected?”
“Holy cow,” Indie said. “Sam, that sounds pretty strange, you know.”
“Of course I know,” he said. “Unfortunately, the two seem to be so connected that we’ve come to the conclusion that somebody stole it just to get it for themselves. It doesn’t really make any sense, but it’s the only theory that seems to truly fit.”
“Okay,” she replied. “I’ll get Herman on it right now. In fact, I’ll send you a link so that you can see the results right there in your office.”
“That would be great,” Sam said. “I didn’t realize you could do that.”
“That’s because we’ve never had a reason to do it before.”
True to her word, Sam received a link in an email just a moment later. He clicked on it, but there were only a couple of results so far. One of them was a link to a headhunter website based in the UK.
Seeking surgeon qualified in intracranial bio-electronic implantation. Previous successful experience required. Compensation far greater than normal. Discretion assured and required. Contact through this website only.
Sam’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the ad. It certainly appeared to be the one he was looking for, but without a location specified where the operation would take place, there was no way to be certain. He looked at the sofa in his office, where Joel was reclining with his eyes closed.
“Joel?” Sam said. “Are you awake?”
Joel sat forward instantly, his eyes wide open. “Yes, I’m awake. Anything happening?”
Sam frowned. “We’ve got a new working hypothesis,” he said. “Summer and Jade found some information that indicates the chip was stolen because somebody wants it implanted in his own brain. There are ads out on the internet, somebody is looking for a surgeon who’s capable of doing the operation. I guess what’s driving me crazy right now is wondering whether having a chip like that is worth a hundred million dollars and several human lives.”
Joel just looked at him for a second, then shrugged. “I like it,” he said, “but not that much. Of course, I've only got the gen-4. The gen-5 is supposed to be several orders of magnitude more advanced than mine.”
“Okay, what does that mean? In terms of what it can actually do, I mean.”
Joel scrunched up his face. “Well, to give you an example,” he said, “mine uses Bluetooth technology to communicate with this cell phone that I carry, which has a built-in computer with the software to interpret my brain activity. That means I can use that phone to query any information on the internet, make a call to anywhere in the world, and I can receive information, including extremely complex information, right into my long-term memory. Those are all pretty good things to be able to do, but there are a lot of things I can’t do that the gen-5 chip would allow.”
“Such as?”
“Well, I can’t watch a video inside my head. The chip is capable of receiving it, as data through the internet, but I don’t have the proper interface built into it that allows the transmission of discernible vision information into my visual cortex. The gen-5 chip has that interface, so it would allow me to go to YouTube or Netflix, close my eyes, and watch any video I wanted. It also has the audio interface, so that I can hear the soundtrack of the video. I know that doesn’t sound like much, but then you’ve got the motor control interfaces. With a little bit of practice, I’d be able to develop entirely new abilities in physical motion. Remember my experiment with karate? The gen-5 would have made it possible for me to adapt new physical skills from data, rather than requiring practice. I might not have been an instant black belt, but I could kick some butt. Or I could learn entirely new sets of motor skills that normal humans would never need. For instance, I could be connected to a computer in a car that would allow me to control every function of that car. Starting, enga
ging the transmission, throttle, brakes, steering—I’d essentially become the car. With proper sensors, I could even, in a sense, feel the road through the tires, the wind across the surface of the car, I could feel an impact if the car was struck. All of that’s built into the new generation, so it’s pretty advanced over mine.”
“Okay, but that would require a special car to be built, right? To use those abilities?”
Joel grinned. “Not necessarily,” he said. “You’ve probably seen headlines about how some cars can be hacked now, right? Somebody who had that chip and some basic hacking skills could take over just about any of those cars, especially any of them that have an autopilot or self-driving capability. If I had the chip and owned one of the new Teslas, I could literally sit home and send the car out to run an errand.”
Sam was watching his face, and suddenly his own eyes went wide. “Oh my—you mentioned autopilots,” he said. “What about aircraft?”
Joel shrugged. “Sure, it would work. On most planes, the only thing I couldn't access would be the brakes, but a lot of the newer jumbo jets have automatic landing systems that would even allow that. I told you before, the new chip could make it possible for a person to sit in one spot and use the technology to control aircraft, vehicles, even a robot avatar so you could basically visit anyplace in the world without ever getting out of bed. Doctor Prentiss says just about everybody will eventually have one, which means nobody will have to leave their house for anything. If you need to get something, just send your car to the store, rent a robot avatar when you get there, link up with it and do your shopping, then put your purchases in the car and bring it home. If you’re really lazy, you can have another robot at your house to unload it. It's really still you doing all of it, but without ever having to move a muscle.”
“I pray to God I’m never that lazy,” Sam said. “But you’re making me think of the potential military and terrorism applications. Somebody with that chip could conceivably hijack a vehicle and ram it into a crowd of people, or into a building. An airplane could be forced to crash wherever the person wanted, without ever needing a suicide pilot on board. Am I right?”