The Singularity Race (18 page)

“But they let you leave,” Mullins said.

“I told them I couldn't function without a time of grieving. I convinced them I could work conceptually without being in the state-run laboratory. I withdrew to the province of my family, staying with my sister in her rural village. We kept the pregnancy a secret. She and her husband had tried to have children, but without success. When Peter was born, he was registered as their child.”

“But the policy has relaxed since then.”

“Yes. Only within the past few years. But the status of those children born before then has not. They are still in limbo. Considered outside the plan. Second children get no registration papers which means no education, no legal status, and no acknowledgment that they exist. I would have been condemning Peter to a life not worth living.”

“Even now?”

“You have to understand documents are issued by local bureaucrats and so far they have been slow to act. And who knows what will happen to my sister and her husband if the truth comes out? Parents have lost jobs and even their homes for violating the one-child decree. My sister and her husband were conspirators in my scheme. I have yet to read the word amnesty in any of the policy changes.”

Mullins didn't doubt the harsh, punitive actions Li described or the uncertainty of the consequences of her revelation. But her story was more than a confession; it was a weapon to be used against her, a vulnerability to be exploited.

“Was Vice Admiral MacArthur blackmailing you?”

“I have no idea who you're talking about.”

“All right, then who is blackmailing you? Brentwood?”

She licked her lips nervously. “He's paying me very well.”

“That's not what I asked. Does he know your relationship to Peter and is he using that as leverage?”

“Yes, but it was only to get me to talk with him. I want to be doing what I'm doing.”

“Brentwood took Peter's cap and your makeup?”

“Yes, but he told me he had nothing to do with the assassinations. Why steal our things if he planned to kill me?”

“Which brings us back to MacArthur. Either he knew you're Peter's mother and lied, or whoever reported the lab tests lied. Naval Intelligence wouldn't make so blatant an error.”

“Rusty, I don't know what to say.” She moved closer to him. “You know my secret. What are you going to do with it? What are you going to do to Peter?”

“Tell one more person and one person only.”

“Who?”

“The President of the United States.”

Li blinked in disbelief. “But we're doing confidential work. Can we keep secrets from the head of your government?”

Mullins clutched Li's forearm. “Secret Service means I keep secrets. I'm protecting you now, not the President. Anything I say to him is in service to you. Understand?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “If you say this is the best way.”

“It's the best way.” He released her arm and studied her face carefully.

The fear had gone but before he could identify her new expression, she kissed him on the lips. The touch was gentle, neither lingering nor brusque, but still a kiss that caught him completely off guard. He jerked back and instantly regretted it.

“I'm…I'm sorry,” Li stammered.

“No, no, don't be.” Mullins twisted in the driver's seat, leaned across the console and pulled Li close until his lips brushed her ear. “Nothing is going to happen to you or Peter. I promise.”

Then he kissed her.

Chapter Twenty-five

At a quarter to three in the afternoon, Heinrich Schmidt cruised past the brick condo building for the third time. Lights were on in the windows of the unit occupied by Lieutenant Commander Woodson's wife and son. This time he found a space half a block down and parked the rental car close to the curb.

Schmidt knew the boy was only three and he hoped the child was taking an afternoon nap. The mother would probably answer the door quickly, not wanting the buzzer for the outer locked door to wake the child. He was ready with his story and his false government ID. He hoped she'd agree to come willingly to the safe house. If not, he had duct tape for their mouths and plasticuffs for their hands to keep them both quiet and immobile until they could be moved.

This order had surprised him. After the hit on MacArthur, he'd ditched the hoodie in a dumpster behind a McDonald's and used a public access computer at a Baltimore library branch to post an Internet declaration crediting Double H for the kill. He almost didn't bother to check his e-mail, but did so on the chance there would be some congratulatory statement. That was when the instructions for the woman and boy had appeared.

Schmidt wasn't happy. Killing was so much easier.

***

At three-thirty, Mullins' burner phone rang.

“It's Dawkins. I sent a man to your daughter's condo. He reported no one was home.”

Mullins' stomach knotted. “Have him ring her neighbor's condo. The name's Beecham. Sometimes Kayli and Josh are over there.”

“Haven't you told her we were coming?”

“I left a voicemail. She's not picking up her phone.” Mullins knew alarm bells must be ringing in Dawkins' head as well.

“Is there some place she'd be where she couldn't use her phone?”

Mullins had asked himself the same question, racking his brain trying to reconstruct his daughter's schedule. “Josh has swim lessons some afternoons. Moms and preschoolers. And Kayli volunteers at the Shirlington Library for afternoon story time. Both places she has to turn off her phone.”

“But you're not certain either was today?”

“No, but Kayli's not one to sit at home.”

“All right. I'll tell my man to stay put. I'll see you at six. Don't worry. I'm sure they'll show up at any moment.”

Allen Woodson got to the Breezewood Motel at five. Peter and Lisa Li sat on their bed and Mullins indicated Woodson should take the one chair. He preferred to stand as a literal application of thinking on his feet. He decided not to tell his son-in-law about Kayli and Josh. He had texted him a short message:

You don't know that Lisa Li is Peter's mother. You only know what MacArthur told you.

So, Woodson sat in the chair, prepared to listen to Mullins without indicating he knew MacArthur had lied.

Mullins spoke to Peter first. “I told you we had a surprise tonight.”

“Mr. Woodson?” Peter asked, and attempted to look enthusiastic.

“Well, yes, but what's special is that Mr. Woodson has made arrangements for us to go to the White House and meet the President.”

“Really?” Peter jumped off the bed. “Now?”

“No, not for another hour. We're going to meet a friend of mine at the IHOP. He's a real Secret Service agent, not retired like me, and he'll drive us. So I suggest you take a shower and change clothes. We'll wait outside and give you and your aunt some privacy.”

Woodson took his cue and stood.

“Let us know when you're ready,” Mullins told Li. “Just signal from the door.”

Mullins led the way to Woodson's car. Better to have two people talking in a different vehicle than draw attention to a Ford Escort that appears to be a mobile conference room.

Woodson slid behind the steering wheel. “So, what do we know?”

Mullins closed the passenger door and twisted toward his son-in-law. “Lisa's charade grew out of her pregnancy and to protect Peter in a society where she and her husband had violated the one-child policy. The consequences of her revelation would have been draconian.”

“So, that issue is separate from Double H and the attempt on her life?”

“I think so. But not entirely detached from her work. Somehow Brentwood discovered the truth and used it as a means to enlist her on his Apollo project. It worked but his threat is no longer a factor because Lisa claims to be committed to her role. At least that's the way she's playing it.”

“Does the boy know?” Woodson asked.

“No, and I promised to keep the truth from him.”

“How are we playing MacArthur's DNA statement?”

“I hope when we lay out the situation for Brighton he'll understand why we need to continue our investigation without you being pulled into MacArthur's murder.”

“I've been following the news on the car radio,” Woodson said. “They're reporting a sketch is being drawn up of a person of interest. That's got to be me.”

“I know. And although only MacArthur and Brighton knew what you were doing, someone had to see you at the Naval Intelligence office. It won't take them long to make the connection. But Brighton can shut down that line of inquiry.”

“And your friend Dawkins? Is he good with all this?”

“He's good because he doesn't know anything. He's aware that I've got inside information about MacArthur, but Dawkins understands that the less he's involved, the safer his position. And I'll make that clear to Brighton.”

Woodson looked out the side window and thought a moment. “So, how are we playing it with the President?”

“A step at a time. We'll have Lisa and Peter meet him, and then I'll suggest Dawkins take them on a behind-the-scenes tour of the White House. Brighton might insist on talking to me alone. If that's the case, I'll agree and brief you later.”

“Then what?”

“There's still a killer out there, Allen. I'm getting protection for Kayli and Josh as well as Lisa and Peter. Then you and I go on the offensive.”

Woodson nodded. “Yeah, there's something rotten at the center of all this, and I think MacArthur might have been part of it.”

Mullins' eyebrows arched. “Because of the DNA lie?”

“That and the way his murder went down.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think MacArthur knew the guy. It was like they'd been having a conversation, a conversation that stopped when MacArthur saw me.”

“And the other man didn't look at you?”

“Not when I noticed him. But MacArthur saw me and said something. And then he looked surprised the instant before he was shot.”

Mullins sat quietly, thinking about the implications of Woodson's observation. After a moment, he said, “Then was this man tailing MacArthur or had he been summoned?”

“Summoned for what?”

“It's pretty damned clear to me he's a professional assassin. Maybe MacArthur's plan was to get you out of D.C. to a point where you'd be a random victim. Why else would MacArthur know the guy?”

“MacArthur was going to have me killed because of the DNA test?”

“Allen, when we don't know who our friends are, then everyone's a potential enemy. And MacArthur might have trusted someone who viewed him as more of a liability than you.”

“And now MacArthur's been silenced.”

“But that doesn't mean he didn't leave a trail,” Mullins said.

“What trail?”

“The one we're going to follow. The money.”

***

Sam Dawkins opened the door to the Oval Office, and then he stood to the side. “You know the way,” he whispered to Mullins.

Mullins entered first followed by Peter and Lisa Li with Woodson in the rear. President Brighton stood in front of his desk, wearing a dark blue suit, white shirt, muted red tie, and mandatory U.S. flag pin in his lapel. His face wore a two-thousand watt smile as if he was in full campaign mode. Mullins expected that. What he didn't expect was that the President would be alone. His sycophant Chief of Staff, Daniel DeMarco, usually accompanied him everywhere, except maybe the bathroom. But, DeMarco hadn't been part of the night time hospital visit and so Mullins knew Brighton was still keeping this whole affair close to his chest.

“Dr. Li,” Brighton said, waving his arms wide. “Welcome. I've heard so much about you. And this must be Peter. What a handsome lad.”

The President gave handshakes all around, and then gestured for his guests to sit in the conversation area in front of his desk. Peter nestled in close to Li. Mullins could tell the boy was put off by Brighton's grandiose style.

“And let me just say,” the President continued, “that I am so thankful that you were under the care of Rusty Mullins, one of the finest agents we've ever had.” Brighton smiled at Mullins, but his eyes were as brittle as ice.

“I am too, sir,” Li said. “Every moment of every day since then.”

Mullins felt his face flush. He wanted to give some sort of “only doing my job” response, but he didn't trust himself to speak.

“Why do you think this Double H terrorist group targeted you?” Brighton asked.

Mullins noticed how the President had lumped the mysterious group into that broad enemy combatant category guaranteed to rally public support for any extreme action that might be undertaken to destroy them.

“I don't know, sir. My work isn't that important. I've thought about it, and I'd have to say fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear that we are moving into an area of scientific exploration that might have severe unintended consequences. And since I've been working for Mr. Brentwood, I've considered another possibility.”

Woodson saw Mullins edge forward in his chair and realized Li might be venturing into new territory and a theory she hadn't shared with his father-in-law.

“What's that?” the President asked.

“Mr. Brentwood has often said the quest for artificial intelligence and creating a computer capable of thinking beyond the limits of human beings is the arms race of this century. He compares it to the Manhattan Project during The Second World War and the crash program to build the atomic bomb. I understand that program was so secret that even Vice President Truman didn't know of its existence.”

“That's what the history books claim,” Brighton acknowledged. “You're saying we have a Manhattan Project underway to build artificial intelligence?”

“I would assume you have something of the sort, and I would assume others believe that as well. Wasn't that the case with the atomic bomb? You knew the Germans were pursuing the same research?”

“Yes, I believe that's so.”

“Then this Double H could be simply a screen behind which a country or corporation is working all out to be the first in this race. They don't want to stop artificial intelligence, they want to control it. Tell me, Mr. President, if you had been in Roosevelt's place and you knew the identities and locations of Germany's top nuclear scientists, would you have authorized their assassination?”

Brighton blinked like he'd just been surprised by a tough, unexpected policy question at a news conference. “Well, we were at war, Dr. Li. I suppose I would have.”

“And after the war, had Werner Von Braun and the other rocket scientists who came to the West elected to take their knowledge to the Soviet Union and you had the chance to order their assassination, would you have done so?”

The President shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “That's a little different. The Soviets were still our ally.”

“Were they?” Li asked. “If your intelligence agencies had told you the brain power they were harvesting from the ashes of The Third Reich would give them intercontinental missiles ahead of you, would you not have considered that an issue of national security? Or perhaps if not an assassination, then an abduction?”

“You pose some interesting questions, Dr. Li,” Brighton said, evading an answer. “Your logic leads to the conclusion that the scientists weren't assassinated for working on artificial intelligence but rather for working for the wrong side.”

“I think it's a possibility.”

“And who is the other side?”

“I don't know, sir. Your people would know more about that.”

Brighton leaned forward and wiped his palms on his knees. “Please don't take offense, but could it be your own country?”

Li looked at Mullins. “I can't rule out my government, not since Rusty noticed something I hadn't considered.”

“He's a detective,” Peter said, obviously more impressed with Mullins than the President.

Brighton turned to Mullins. “What was that?”

Li nodded for Mullins to speak. He wasn't completely sure what she meant, but given the context of her comments, he had a pretty good idea.

“Things were happening very quickly during the Marriott shootings,” he said. “I was looking for a way to safety through the kitchen. That was when one of the assassins caught up with us. He grabbed Dr. Li around the neck and started pulling her backwards.” Mullins looked at Li and saw she was nodding in agreement. “He shot me in the shoulder but leaned far enough away from her that I was able to take him out. The odd part was his bothering to grab her.”

“He could have killed her and moved on,” Brighton said.

“Yes. And these guys weren't amateurs. They'd scouted the place, found the breakers to kill the lights, and had an escape van at the exit. The only thing they missed was the extra security from Prime Protection, and that might have been because the request for our presence didn't come through hotel security but directly from the program coordinators. And it was a last-minute request.”

“You're thinking the Pakistani and German scientists were targeted for assassination and Dr. Li was to be abducted. Interesting.”

“I hadn't thought about it being the Chinese,” Mullins admitted. “They could have extracted Dr. Li back to the mainland, but that's a pretty serious allegation.”