by Kirk Russell
“So they say. They think he came from the north end. There’s an unpaved road that runs the perimeter and then around the back of the mountains. You probably know it. He got as far as he did because so many people trespassed at more or less the same time. It seems there was some coordination with that and when they cut the chain-link fence posts with battery-powered tools along the south side. Police were outnumbered.”
“Who do we contact?” I asked.
“They’ll meet you at the guard gate. Take one of the four-wheel or all-wheel vehicles and good luck. Take radios. Take water and beef up your first-aid gear, but you’re not out there on a rescue mission. You’re out there to get that bastard. Call me after you’ve met with DoD at the guard gate, or text me you’ve connected with them and it’s a go.”
Jace and I drove out in the blistering heat and brightness. It was that hot already. We passed through a police cordon and met up with the two DoD agents we used to meet with monthly. They’d been ordered to wear bulletproof vests and were streaming in sweat. The heat was too much with the vests on, so we didn’t dawdle in the sun. We followed their vehicle on the flat road across the desert plain toward the Indie building.
We saw people walking and passed arrests in progress, and then realized what the DoD had done. The circumference of the mile-wide-diameter surrounding the base was just over three miles. To prevent deaths, they’d focused on intercepting trespassers before they reached that line. There wasn’t a road that circled the three miles, and some of it reached up the spine of mountains behind.
“Why can’t they just disarm the AI or shut it down for twenty-four hours?” Jace asked.
“They aren’t going to, and I agree. We know bots originating in Eastern Europe helped drive people to Bismarck’s dark web site. He’s been preaching for six months how he’s going to mind-meld with Indie and urging followers to do the same. They’ve given Indie control of almost all surveillance and a lot of the defensive weapons; shut it down and the base becomes more vulnerable to attack.”
“With Nellis Air Force Base sitting in Las Vegas, you’ve got to be kidding. They can bring in all kinds of defenses.”
“They’re probably doing that, but the problem right now is I doubt they’re comfortable shutting Indie down.”
Dust devils swirled to the north and south as we followed the DoD agents across the desert plain toward the half-subterranean Indie building. Something glittering along the mountains caught my eye. A shifting, changing shape toward the northeast reflected shifting bright flickers of light. It was large and flowing like something draped in the sky.
“Look left along the mountains, Jace.”
“I’m already looking. What is that and the dark thing inside?”
“I think we’re looking at a helicopter surrounded by small drones.”
“There must be hundreds of them,” Jace said. “Have you ever seen this?”
“Never.”
“They’re coming our way.”
Jace brought up binoculars. “I can see the helicopter. It’s headed toward that airfield, and the things, the drones, are surrounding it. It looks like they’re trying to block him.”
As we got closer, we talked with the DoD agents just ahead of us who were watching the same thing. The pilot’s movements looked erratic and dangerous. I could almost feel the fear in the helicopter as the drones enveloped it from above and flowed like water beneath. When they blocked the pilot from landing on the airstrip, it looked like he aimed for the road we were on. Behind the helicopter, a glittering wall of drones broke like a cresting wave.
“They’re spooky fast,” Jace said. “I didn’t know a drone could move that fast. The way the cloud moves . . . I remember it from somewhere.” A moment later, she said, “YouTube. I’ve seen that formation on YouTube. Birds. Starlings. Starlings do all that folding and unfolding. The murmurations of starlings. Did the AI get that from them?”
Before I could answer, the pilot executed an emergency landing maneuver, spinning down from several hundred feet up. They hit hard not far from the airstrip. With the DoD agents, we raced to the rescue. Dust billowed as the main helicopter rotor blade snapped. A piece cartwheeled through mesquite. I hit the accelerator, and we got as close as we could then ran out there carrying first-aid gear with the DoD agents alongside us.
The male pilot and two female passengers were injured, two of them badly. The woman in front had severe facial cuts and was bleeding heavily. Jace went to work on her as blood spattered onto the cockpit floor. The pilot’s left hand was broken. The woman in the back seat was terrified. She was having trouble breathing and said she couldn’t feel her legs. I coaxed her to draw deeper breaths as more vehicles responded and soldiers ran toward us.
“My back,” she whispered.
“We’re going to get you to a hospital. Hang in there. What’s your name?”
“Sarah.”
“Sarah, we’re right here with you.”
The woman in the passenger seat spit blood and gagged, and I heard a different voice of Jace’s, a quiet gentleness, reassuring. The woman’s upper lip was in shreds and upper front teeth were broken off. She tried to pick up piece of her lip off a pant leg until Jace reached down and wrapped it with gauze.
It was the pilot who told us why they were there. The woman in back was a videographer. I’d guessed that. I’d seen the gear. The one in front was a journalist with a successful news website she’d started. Her name was Trudy Dossin. I knew of her. She did in-depth pieces “exposing truth” and had an admirable reputation for fearlessness and taking risks. She took a large one today.
Soldiers lifted the woman out of the back seat and Jace walked the one in the front through the sandy soil to the ambulance along the main road. We continued on with the DoD agents. Ten minutes later, as we worked toward the mountains to the left of the Indie building, the DoD agents radioed, “The AI thinks it’s found him. A line of four people is coming down the side of a mountain behind Indie. We’re going to haul ass there.”
“Let’s go.”
42
A paved road ran around the back of the Indie building. Behind that was sparse vegetation, dry gray sandy soil with mineral streaks of red and, higher, brown to black at the ridge. With binoculars we watched them picking their way down, heads shrouded and hooded. That raised the question of how Indie had identified Bismarck among them, but maybe they’d rested and sat with their hoods pulled back.
Their progress was slow. They were likely aware of us. A helicopter patrolling the mountain ridge dropped and was close to them. We heard fragments of a bullhorn warning and saw a red flare fired. The helicopter hovered then pulled back. It swooped back and dropped down closer when they still continued down.
Bismarck must know he won’t get inside the building, I thought. He won’t get that face to face with Indie so it must be theater, a convincing show he’s planning. I watched their progress in a detached state. The half-mile radius from the building and up the mountain slope put them closer than they might realize to that inviolable line.
I had little respect for the inviolable claim. The murder of the four high school kids—and I think that’s the right word—left me with severe doubts about Indie. I’d learned enough from Ralin to believe Indie had quickly ID’ed the kids. It followed a possible path to where they became threats, an efficient path. But not a rational one.
The helicopter returned and we could hear the bullhorn better. I glanced at Jace and turned and looked at the concrete building. It had walls and a roof three feet thick and heavily reinforced. It had piped-in utility power as well as a solar farm. The only vandalism reported so far was damage to solar panels and their connections. Standing where we were, I could see heat exhaust rising from several spots behind the building. That said they’d turned on the backup power system, diesel generators behind the Indie building and dug into the mountains.
Up the slope, the helicopter pulled away, and my cell rang. I answered, and a man identified himself as Major Collins.
“I got your phone number from your supervisor. I can see you. I’m in the helicopter off to your left. We’ve pulled back because they’re nearing the line. They’re having some sort of meeting now. The DoD agents with you have a laptop we can connect to. Let me talk to one of them, and we’ll get a close-up using one of the drones.”
I didn’t need any more explanation than that. I handed my cell to the DoD agent nearest me and he leaned into their vehicle then brought out a laptop and opened it on the hood. I watched as an image of four men who were specks up on the mountain suddenly appeared as if they were standing right next to us. One had his hood off, his face exposed.
“Is that him?” Major Collins asked me.
“No, it’s not.”
“Okay, let’s stay with them, they’re starting down again.”
The one who’d lowered his hood left it down and Collins gave a readout in yards as the foursome picked their way through rocks.
“Two hundred twenty-one yards to boundary,” Collins said.
“I’m going to put you on speakerphone,” I said.
“Go ahead.”
We all watched as a second man pulled back his hood and exposed his face.
“That’s not him either,” I said as they came out of the rock field and zigzagged down a steeper slope of dried gray soil that crumbled with their steps.
“One hundred thirty-nine yards,” Collins said and added, “Two raised their right arms to acknowledge they’d heard our warning. They are too close to the line now for us to go back in.”
A few minutes later the other two pulled back their hoods and the one who’d been following moved to the front.
“That’s him, that’s Bismarck who just took the lead. They must know where the line is. It’s not likely coincidence.”
“Twenty-five yards,” Collins said.
The slope flattened slightly and Bismarck opened his arms in the last ten yards. He looked upward toward the sun as two of the men shot video. Bismarck had something near a beatific smile on his face. I looked from the screen to the sky and saw a thin exhaust trail and the explosion that followed. I watched the second and third missile strikes before looking at the laptop.
All that showed there was smoke, and when it cleared there was bright-red blood and fragments and little left of any of the men. One of the DoD agents coughed and turned away as if close to vomiting. Intestines were strung out, a head torn open and hard to look at. None of us said anything for long seconds and then Jace said, “Only Bismarck was across the line.”
The DoD agents nodded, and one said, “That’s how it looked to me too. That’s what’ll go in our report, but drones will give an accurate read down to the millimeter.”
He looked at me as he folded the laptop. “We’ll figure out how to deal with the remains before the vultures do. We don’t have a plan, we didn’t see this coming, and we didn’t know that thing would take out all of them.”
Neither Jace nor I had much to say to that, so we exchanged contact info and Jace and I headed inside the Indie building because one of the officers had told her Ralin was there. That didn’t jibe with what Ralin had said to us, but we decided to check it out.
43
Indonal and Ralin were both there. Indonal’s face lit up when he saw Jace and they hugged like they were old friends. He left, and Ralin looked at us with a mix of sadness and exasperation.
“Don’t ask me about Indie’s role in anything today. I won’t know the answer. If you have other questions, let’s hear them, but I can’t answer anything related to the strike that killed the mind-melder.”
“We witnessed it,” Jace said.
“Then you know more than me.”
He went from there to a riff on his struggle to keep up with Indie and what it has taken to hold the project together. He didn’t say anything at all about Stinson Beach or how he’d returned to work here. He pointed through the glass wall in the direction of the AI.
“I’ve been interviewed endlessly over Eric and Alan. DoD acknowledges how much they need him but still treat Eric like a suspect. Alan and Eric left to find a way to do what we started out to do—to create something that will be of great benefit to all humanity. If all goes well, Eric and I will still do that as we leave this project. For a very long time we worked with that as a goal. We didn’t have the funding to go any further, so we turned to DARPA.”
“You created the AI,” Jace said. “People think you’re another Einstein.”
“Which is embarrassing and a complete joke, but if it got us the money to build this, then who cares? And for that matter, you’re right, Eric is the only one close to genius. I’ve told Eric that many times.”
That surprised me. I’m sure it surprised Jace, but she was already locked in on where she was going. I doubted it was worth it. I didn’t see the reason to do it, but she was going there.
“I’m going to jump subjects on you,” she said, “because the personal interactions between the three of you may help explain Eckstrom’s actions. I have a question about Trent and Eckstrom’s relationship.”
“Can’t help you there.”
“I think you can,” Jace said. “When I was there, she threw the flowers you brought down the hallway and appeared very angry at you. Then the two of you asked for some privacy to talk in the rock garden downstairs. Ten full minutes. I have notes. I’m a big notetaker.”
“What are you getting at?” Ralin asked.
“Why was Trent so angry? We have to go there,” Jace said, “because if Eckstrom confronted you over your affair with Trent before an unknown assailant killed him, then you’re a possible suspect. What did you say to Eckstrom when he confronted you?”
“That’s very offensive.”
“We have to consider all possibilities.”
“Please leave,” Ralin said.
“We are going to leave, but you need to answer.”
“He didn’t confront me, but yes, Laura and I were seeing each other. Alan and Laura’s relationship died years ago, and Laura and I saw each other only briefly. We both were lonely and needed someone to hold. It didn’t mean anything beyond that.”
“Did Laura tell Alan about your affair with her?” Jace asked.
“I don’t know, but she was angry at me for wanting to end it.”
“Even though it was just a fling?”
“She was angry at everything and everyone.”
“Did she also tell you that she’d told Alan she was pregnant?”
“She didn’t.”
“She told Alan she was pregnant and that it wasn’t his child. It couldn’t be. She also said you were afraid she’d gotten too serious about you, so you made a point of telling her about other women you’ve been with or are still with. One is a young grad student at Stanford. Another was the woman in London who everybody we talk to seems to know about. Laura thought there might be more but hoped not for your wife’s sake.” Then Jace asked, “Did you view Laura as a temporary affair?”
“Yes.”
“Did she?”
“That’s how we talked about it, but now I don’t know.”
Jace softened her tone and fed him a couple of lines. “Women get attached more easily,” she said. “And it’s clear women are drawn to you. Is it possible she hoped for a much longer relationship?”
“What does that have to do with Alan’s murder? You know very well I didn’t kill Alan, so I don’t understand this.”
In a much harder voice Jace said, “You understand every bit of it. You’re saying you broke off the affair with Laura. Why did you end it?”
“She was getting too attached. This will make you gag, Agent Blujace. She said she felt swept away and as if she could believe in herself agai
n. She talked about a life we could build together, but that was never going to happen.”
“Why not?”
“It was strictly a physical attraction.”
“Really?”
“You’re a caustic human being.”
“Maybe so, but I have notes,” Jace said. “Do you want to hear what Laura said about you?”
“Will it make any difference?”
“It might.”
Jace fumbled with her phone and put on reading glasses, a nice touch, and the first I’d seen of them.
“Okay, here are my notes.” Jace pulled out her notebook and flipped a couple of pages. “I’ll read what I wrote when I asked her if she hoped to be with you. She said, ‘Mark sleeps with anyone he can because he can’t forgive his wife for something she did eight or nine years ago.’ And, ‘He’s in love with himself. He’ll never love anyone else as much as himself. I could never be with someone like that.’ I tried to write it down word for word,” Jace said. “I recorded it as well. So. What does she want from you now?”
“Money.”
“How much money did she ask for?”
“A ridiculous amount.”
“How ridiculous?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Why would she ask for a ridiculous amount, to find a place to live and get a job?”
“Ask her.”
“I did,” Jace said, “and she told me she didn’t sleep with anyone other than you. And that you’d had unprotected sex. Do you know where I’m going with this?”
He didn’t answer, though Jace gave him thirty or forty seconds. Then she asked it a different way.
“Is Laura Trent pregnant with your child?”
Ralin gave her a hard, bitter look, then said, “Get out of here. Take your anger somewhere else. I’m done talking to you.”
Jace didn’t have an answer for that and was very quiet in the car. She tended to verbalize her summary of an interview but was silent on the long, straight road across the base. I didn’t say anything either and thought of the two women injured in the helicopter crash. We were back in North Las Vegas before Jace said anything. When she did, she caught me by surprise.
