The Last Firewall (21 page)

“Please don’t do that, Cat. You have a digital signature that is . . . unique. When you arrive, I’ll teach you how to suppress it. In the meantime, stay off the net. I’ll put up an overview.”

A three dimensional hologram flickered to life in the cabin, showing the positions of the different aircars. They flew low to the ground, corkscrewing through the hills east of San Diego, the tortured screech of the engine echoing off canyon walls.

“Can you outrun them?” Cat asked.

“Yes, but they can always call in more help to track us. Better to lose them here and now with an impossible maneuver.” For two minutes the aircar screamed at near supersonic speeds, hurtling at high G-forces through mountains and valleys. Battered by the rapid turns, Cat feared she might pass out under the acceleration.

The car hurtled out of a canyon and over a hill, then dove straight toward a lake. Cat screamed at the last second, then they hit the water.

Seatbelt tensioners and airbags fired, stunning but protecting Cat. She clawed at the airbag as the car began to sink in the frothing and bubbling water.

“Relax, Catherine. The car is watertight. No one saw us go into the reservoir. We’re safe.”

“You can fly us out?” She surveyed the interior. She’d never heard of an aircar that was also a submarine.

“No, of course not. The vehicle is damaged beyond repair. I will send air transport and rescue bots. They will be at your location and retrieve you as soon as the Institute’s search has been called off.”

The hiss and crackle of cold water hitting the superheated engine sounded behind her.

“What the hell?” Cat got out of her seat and screamed. “I’m trapped down here. What if the windshield cracks? What if this thing springs a leak? What if you don’t get here in time and the air runs out?”

She lost her balance as the car sank into the water and it grew darker inside.

“I calculated probabilities and made the choice with the highest likelihood of successful evasion with minimal risk. Now please remain calm. Data transmission will cease in a few seconds. I assure you, I will retrieve you.”

Then the speaker was silent. The cabin turned black and the car started to creak alarmingly.

Cat fought panic. She forced herself to sit just in time, the car jolting into the mud bottom of the reservoir. She reached out one finger to touch the windshield, then changed her mind, and withdrew her hand. She sat back and gripped the armrests as the glass creaked and moaned.

Part Two

37

L
EON GAWKED IN SURPRISE
as Catherine Matthews climbed into the other car and left. When her car took off, an unexpected jealousy seized him.

The moment passed as their own engines throttled to take-off power on their own. The aircar turned ninety degrees and glided sideways down the street. At the same time Shizoko churned toward them, leaping into the air ten feet from the door. The two paths intersected, Shizoko flying through the doorway to slam into the opposite side. The engines shrieked as they veered to follow Catherine, throwing Mike and Leon into the wall.

“Some warning would help,” Mike said, picking himself up.

“What the hell just happened?” Leon said. “Where is she going?”

“Unknown, but I don’t think she’s in control.” Shizoko said. “Her car’s rate of acceleration is unsafe for humans.”

“She voluntarily got in,” Leon said, struggling to buckle as the aircar jigged back and forth in pursuit.

“Someone spoke to her before she boarded.” Shizoko replayed the transaction, a series of encrypted audio data packets to and from the vehicle in the moments before takeoff.

Mike, already buckled, started playing with the data as they accelerated in huge curves and stomach-raising lurches. “The other end is anonymous,” he yelled over the howl of the engines. “Can you backtrace to the source?”

The aircar banked right. Leon overlaid the locations of the hired security cars, also in pursuit, on the windshield. The Bugatti outdistanced them, but with sixteen vehicles sharing telemetry, they could track a long way out.

“I’ve traced the AI to an unregistered server in Atlanta,” Shizoko said, his voice machine calm, a stark contrast to the chaos of the frantic chase.

“Unregistered?” Mike said. “The point of the ethics framework is to ensure every computer is protected.”

“The CPU in question is registered to an AI out of Belgium. The AI self-terminated fourteen days ago, but its credentials haven’t expired yet. The server was a dumb packet forwarder on a nexus with a million other servers, which means I’ll have to backtrack through every other connection coming in and out. I’ll need at least a few hours.”

“What are you going to do about her car?” Leon gestured toward the Bugatti, too distant to see, but displayed on the overlay as fifteen miles away, traveling at supersonic speeds.

“I’ve hired more security firms at these six locations.” Shizoko displayed a half circle of points on the map, fifty miles distant. “And these.” Another arc, two hundred miles out.

“Can we use public data to track her?” Leon asked.

“No,” Shizoko said. “They’d deny a request from me for air traffic control access. If you ask, they’d say yes, but you’d reveal your location. The People’s Party is still looking for you, and you would attract crowds anywhere we go. It’s not . . .”

“Yes?” Leon asked. “It’s not what?”

The Bugatti disappeared from the display.

Leon and Mike looked at each other.

“Shizoko?” Mike called.

Long seconds later, the aircar slowed as the engines backed off, and moments later they had returned to a sedate cruising speed.

“The other AI is brilliant,” Shizoko said.

“What?”

“Catherine Matthew is gone. We lost her somewhere in the Santa Ana valleys.”

“How did you lose her?” Leon asked, his voice rising.

“I’m sorry, but we did. They used evasive techniques. They stayed closed to the ground, followed the contours of the land, and outflew us. We lost them visually and on radar. It’s sparsely populated, so there are minimal other data sources to use.”

“Can’t we just surveil the general area?” Leon said.

“Not four thousand square miles. With the right gear, they could be in and out and we’d never spot them. All is not lost, however.”

“How do you figure?” Leon said.

“It took tremendous power and bandwidth to pilot that aircar to a getaway. I’ll trace the other AI more quickly now. I’m calling off the security cars and landing for refueling.”

The car turned to return to San Diego.

Leon swiped madly at the disjointed data. Even implanted, with ten years’ experience, he couldn’t make sense of the complex patterns. He was completely dependent on an AI he’d met only twenty-four hours ago. He looked at the picture of Cat hanging in netspace, feeling utterly useless.

He glanced sideways at Mike, who was slowly shaking his head.

“What?” Leon snapped.

“You’ve already decided you want her,” Mike said, his voice tired. “That’s going to cloud your thinking. Not helpful.”

38

S
LIM
,
A HUNDRED FEET
from the wreckage of the bar, ignored the cries for help emanating from inside. He had watched, his weapon hanging limply, as the exotic aircar took off on autopilot with the girl. Tony lay in a pool of his own blood. Wisps of smoke trickled out from the building as battery fluids leaked from the ruined Honda wedged in the wall. He shook his head. Total fubar.

Who could believe one girl caused all this mess? No wonder she’d beat the pulp out of Tony in Los Angeles.

Soon the police would arrive in force, but for now the street was still vacant, civilians in hiding.

He jogged over to Tony, crunching through broken glass and bullet shoes on the way. The big man moaned weakly, only semiconscious.

“You’re gonna be all right, old friend.” Slim tied his windbreaker around Tony’s leg wound to stem the bleeding, evoking new whimpers. “Sorry, but we gotta get out of here.”

Slim needed transportation now that the groundcar was wrecked and the Bugatti gone. He ran to a parked car halfway down the block and pulled out his pocket computer. Adam’s software should be able to hijack the vehicle. He swiped at the screen, but nothing happened. The damn thing was locked up. He startled as Helena rolled up.

The battle bot was shot up good, bullet-pocked and sensors dangling in places. “The girl and I fried every computer within a half mile. Allow me.” She started the old VW Jetta with one touch of a tentacle.

“We need to get Tony,” he said.

Helena waved a metal limb. “I’ll bring the car around.” She drove remotely, and they met next to Tony.

Slim tried to lever him up, but failed to even get his upper body off the ground. “He’s too heavy.”

Helena wrapped tentacles around Tony and lifted him into the back seat. “Let me ride with him. I have an emergency medical kit.”

“Where’s the rest of your team?” Slim asked. Sirens warbled in the distance.

“Dead.” The bot was emotionless.

Slim nodded, numb himself, and got into the front seat. The car moved on its own, before he’d even touched the controls. He glanced back.

“Don’t worry, I can drive and operate at the same time. I’m not that damaged.” She brought two arms around to Tony’s injured leg. The tentacle ends split open, exposing delicate manipulators. She peeled back Tony’s pants and squirted something into the bullet entry. “His chances of recovery are poor with this much blood loss. If I bring us to a hospital, can you get him type A+?”

“What do I do?” Slim asked, turning around.

Helena inserted manipulators into the wound. There was a bright spark and sizzle, followed by the smell of burnt flesh. “I’m going to pull up outside the Emergency Room entrance at Scripps Mercy. Go into the first set of double doors, then take the third left into the medicine room. The blood will be in a silver walk-in refrigerator. Everything is access controlled. Since you lack an implant, I’ll disable all locks as soon as you enter.”

“Double doors, third left, silver refrigerator, A+. Got it.”

Helena wrapped two tentacles around Tony’s legs and lifted them into the air. The car lurched sideways as they took a sharp turn.

“What are you doing?” Slim asked.

“Forcing the remaining blood to his brain.” Helena held the wound closed, then cauterized again.

Slim flinched against the bright glare. “What the heck is that?”

“Miniature arc welder for field repairs. Never used one on a human. The burn is bad, but bleeding to death is worse.”

“Jeez. Is he gonna be OK?” Slim ran one hand around his neck. He’d dropped the tribal necklace he had gotten from the Enforcement team leader. What was her name? Sonja.

Helena was quiet for a moment. “Maybe. The bone shattered and will need six weeks to heal, probably with permanent damage without full medical care. Unless we use experimental medic nanites.”

“You have those?”

“No, but they will on a Navy ship.”

San Diego was home to a naval base. “Let’s go there after the hospital.” Slim glanced up. “Have you heard from Adam since this went all to hell?”

“No, he’s not answering coms,” Helena said. “I’ve tried several times.”

Adam had never abandoned them before. Yet he’d clearly taken the girl and not them. So they were expendable after all, and Adam might decide to eliminate them to reduce exposure.

“Stop trying,” Slim said. “He doesn’t need us.”

Helena nodded. “You are correct.” She stopped for a moment. “Adam didn’t tell us what we were facing. He hired us to extract an ordinary girl, not a highly skilled combat professional. We would have gone in with more forces had we known. My friends died because Adam concealed the truth. I’m not going to let that go.”

Slim shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re going up against. No one can fight Adam and win.”

“Then I’ll die trying.” Helena spoke softly. “Loyalty to the team above all. There is no point to life if I don’t stand up for what I believe in.” She turned a camera lens on Slim. “I will fight him. You know Adam. You will help me.”

Slim sighed. Tony was right, it had been better when they only had to kill people.

39

C
ONDENSATION TRICKLED DOWN
the windshield, just barely visible now that Cat’s eyes had adjusted to the dark. Every few minutes the cabin creaked, making her stomach jump. The deep water’s chill penetrated the car, wracking her body with long shivers from head to feet.

She tried to distract herself with math. The Bugatti’s cabin worked out to about three hundred cubic feet. Now how much did she breathe? Her meditation teacher said the average person consumed about half a cubic foot of air per minute, about thirty cubic feet per hour. She had nearly ten hours of air, but surely she didn’t deplete all the oxygen in one breath?

No, she was wrong: carbon dioxide was the limiting factor, not oxygen. At one and a half percent concentration, carbon dioxide caused headaches and nausea, at three percent unconsciousness and by eight percent death. A surprising effect for a natural by-product of respiration. She shivered harder and wrapped her arms around her knees. Maybe she’d die of hypothermia first.

Forcing herself to massage her numb arms, she checked her implant and found she’d been under water for forty minutes. She listened for any sound of rescue. Nothing.

The car’s net transmitter, more powerful than her implant, might be able to signal for help. But if Adam could be believed, and the wrong people heard her—the Institute—well, she couldn’t take that chance. Not yet.

Cat thought back to the bar with a bile-raising lurch, remembering the people she’d put into danger, indirectly killed. She’d used innocents for any edge to oppose the attackers.

She struggle to keep from being sick, forced her breath to be even and slow, told her muscles to relax. Mind over body, the most important karate lesson of all.