by Scott Sibary
“Not just the sum of their parts and their programming?”
Liu gave an approving smile. “And that makes them less predictable: supervisors as well as subordinates. You are insightful. Perhaps you can predict what is on my mind this evening?”
AnDe tightened his fingers around his water glass. “You honor me, sir.” He took a burbling sip of water. “Perhaps you’re wondering whether we’re closer to making the Protection Lock acceptable to our operating system?”
“Yes, and also?”
“Whether the Norwegians have shared the information we need to ensure ongoing compatibility between the two systems?”
“That would be the minimum we need.”
“The agreement between China and Norway, did it not allow Norway to retain the contents of the Protection Lock as secret? I’m a bit confused by the diplomatic process.”
“That is understandable. Let me review for you what happened. Norway offered its new system, including vital codes with a lock, to be part of a China-sponsored version of the AGI to be used by the World Council. Norway then clarified, as they put it, that the contents of this Protection Lock should be kept secret. That makes sufficient sense to our government.”
“What does ‘secret’ mean?”
“Exactly. There are degrees of confidentiality. Should we not expect that our country, as the party initially responsible for building the system, be fully informed as to its contents?”
“I’ve learned that such was not the understanding of the Norwegians.”
“And I had hoped by now you would have learned more.” Director Liu softened his words with a shrug and reached for his teacup.
“I’ve made it clear,” AnDe said, “that I will not use devious methods to discover information. However, I’ve also made it clear that I might ask directly for information they’ve been reluctant to share.”
“Let us look at it this way. Will the project succeed? I could try to make my own appraisal, but I am too out-of-date. So let me ask you. In your expert opinion, is it likely that this trial-and-error process will succeed in developing a route to compatibility, or will we run out of time?”
AnDe rocked his head back and forth and made a hissing noise as he inhaled over his teeth. “I could only generate a probability distribution. The mean would be about 0.5.”
“Or you could say it’s a toss of the coin?” Liu leaned back in his tall desk chair. “That is not good to hear. So much rests on this project succeeding, both for our country and for all of us involved.”
“I’ve found that confidence comes in degrees. I’ve been focusing my efforts on building confidence, and I believe with it will come the necessary collaboration.”
“That’s a good route to follow, but it is not a sure one. Are you exploring others?”
“Only those that are honorable. I would not wish to impugn the integrity of our people.”
“Integrity is another complex human term. It means different things to different people. Remember, the proud nail gets hammered.”
Liu leaned forward, and AnDe leaned reflexively back from the screen.
“I should tell you, AnDe, that I am receiving pressure from the Minister of Technology himself. Pressure to get information, and pressure to make the project succeed however we might.”
“Is that a change in policy?”
“It doesn’t matter. The government, even a faction within government, is entitled to change its policy. That is what governments do.”
“I thought there was consensus on this. Is it your view that this has changed? I mean, is the Minister’s view a dissenting one?”
“My personal opinion is not important; nor is yours.” A loud tapping came from the free hand of Liu. It stopped when he slowly raised the other hand to take a sip of tea. His voice became warm. “But as one engineer to another, I will say it can be tiring to watch how often people in any group find something to divide over.”
“Maybe the problem comes from that which is more than the sum of the parts.”
“You may be right,” the boss chuckled. “Well, I’ll let you go now. We’ll talk again in a few days. Just remember, it is the Minister of Technology who speaks our policy, and loyalty requires us to obey.”
All that AnDe could get himself to utter was, “Yes, sir.”
Chapter Twelve
The lowering sun shone blinding rays through the windows at the far end of the hallway. A tall, slender silhouette emerged from the center of the glare, his movement silent on the off-white carpet. She couldn’t discern the facial features but thought she recognized the casual gait and stopped to verify.
“Hey, Solveig, I saw you returning,” came Per’s familiar voice. “How was your day?”
“Hi, Per. Quite interesting, thanks. I got a tour of the Forbidden City, or at least part of it. I’m finally making time to look around.” She admired the stylish clothes that complemented his lean figure. Had he slung on a slim-fitting leather jacket, he’d have looked perfect in an advertisement, hopping into a sports car and speeding off for an evening out. All in all, a depiction of life beyond the reach of her wallet.
“It was the opposite for me. I usually go out, but was alone today. Perhaps you have other plans, but I was thinking your company would be nice. Like to join me for a dinner out?”
Per cut the much more romantic figure between the two available bachelors on her team. With his gently sculpted face, soothing voice, and debonair manners, he might revive one’s spirits. “That would be delightful, except I’m out of energy. I think I need a quiet evening.” And a voice within protested, How dull, wanting to stay alone on a Saturday night after doing the same all week. It blurted out, “But I’d like to some other time. Maybe tomorrow? I’m frantic to get out of the city.”
“Terrific. I know places we could go. I’ll be here a little longer, if you change your mind about this evening. Otherwise, I’ll contact you in the morning.” He leaned towards her, so that his next words were whispered in her ear. “Sleep well.”
She recoiled from the scent of peat on his breath. “Uh, Per, I’m sorry I have to mention this, but I’d feel irresponsible if I didn’t. You often go out alone in the evening. You do understand, don’t you, that that creates an increased security risk? Even if slight, it means being extra careful.”
“Yes, thanks so much for telling me.” After a glance in the direction of Reidar’s apartment, Per dropped the sarcasm in his voice. “No actually, I really don’t mind. You had to say it, but don’t worry; Reidar knows all about it. I’ll be meeting up later with a couple of his old buddies: two ‘blokes’ from his days on an officer exchange in the British Navy. They happen to be on assignment in Beijing at the moment, so I’m in good company.”
“Ah, well, if Reidar is OK with it . . .”
Per held up a salutary hand and turned to go.
She waited until he’d gone a few paces before entering her apartment. Once inside, she leaned back against the door and faced another evening alone. All of her crew availed themselves of Beijing nightlife and weekend outings. A couple of times she’d gone with Rolv and Reidar and their families to restaurants, and once with Lars to a performance of modern dance. Stig was never insistent when suggesting activities, and Per’s lighthearted invitations were easy to put off. Maybe AnDe was right. Maybe she was the stereotype of a ship’s captain, bossy and self-isolating. Just not of a warship, she prayed.
The warship image dissipated as she stared idly at the wall painting above the loveseat in her foyer. It depicted two flying apsaras: magical and benevolent female figures. They were copies of paintings from the Mogao Caves. The caves on the edge of the Gobi Desert topped her list of places she wished to visit before leaving China. She had first seen apsaras in India, where they had originated: another example of the India-China connection which AnDe had readily downplayed. At first, apsaras had merely tickled her imagination as whimsical symbols of fortuitous events. Later, as she observed and felt conflicted by the unending adve
rsities faced by the poorer strata in Bangalore, she came to see apsaras as admirable symbols of hope. It had taken her breath away the first time she stepped into this apartment and saw them greeting her from the foyer wall. They had followed her, poised as guiding spirits.
She shook her head at the thought of spiritual forces: real only as powers to be found and developed within oneself, however that would happen.
And after these six long days busy with people, she turned inward to address the distracting abyss. Without warning, its depths could erupt with craving voices. But how much attention to give them? Deprived, such voices could drag one down. Cared for, they could give strength—or they could grow into a preoccupation, the process repeating, building and disabling. Leaning on the door, she questioned her usual practice, asking, Can one fully pursue a quest for strength alone and unaided?
The doorbell rang. She jerked upward and spun around.
Is Per so insistent? That’s not a good sign.
She opened the door halfway.
It was Reidar. “I saw on my monitor that you’d returned. I’ve been waiting to speak to you.”
She opened the door wide to let him in. “It must be important if you didn’t want to send a message first.”
“Yes,” he said as he entered.
“Is it Eva?” She guessed his reply.
“No, you.”
“Have a seat in the living room. I’ll be with you in a moment.” She had little doubt he wanted to talk about AnDe and all the time she spent with him. Exactly the thing she needed to clear from her mind. “Water or something else?”
“No, thanks.”
A few moments in the kitchen would be all she could get, and then she’d have to deal openly with the issue. Maybe she should have had Reidar sit in the foyer, but then they’d have to share the loveseat.
Back in the living room, she placed a bowl of nuts, a bowl of seaweed crackers, a small platter of dried fruit and a glass of soda water on the coffee table. She squeezed a slice of lime over the water, then sat in the armchair facing Reidar. He sat on the edge of her sofa like a subordinate giving a report or seeking a favor.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like something to drink? Oh, napkins.” And she stood up to go back to the kitchen.
“Nothing, thanks. I’m very sorry to impose on you, but I thought it necessary to speak to you privately as soon as possible.” He waved his hand apologetically. His raised eyebrows, wide-eyed expression and freckled face, along with his soft, rounded cheeks and lips, gave him an innocuous look. Yet she knew it belied that he was about to be strong and forceful. She sat down again.
“Everyone on the team has talked about your relationship with Andy,” he said. “Naturally, it’s the kind of thing they would do. But my being responsible for the security of our team makes it a little more relevant, something I need to be concerned about. I need to know what you think he’s up to.”
Her throat grew tight. She stared at him and then forced her eyes to lower.
“I mean,” he continued, “it could be easier than we realize to give away clues or reveal things that compromise the security of the Protection Lock. One has to wonder if that’s what he’s truly after. Here’s my worry: he might be spending the extra time with you to probe for information, while, at the same time, delaying progress on the project. With the extra time and information, they might develop their own system to use in lieu of ours. I need to hear from you. What do you think he’s seeking?”
She took a deep breath. “I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Of course we talk about the project; it’s our job to coordinate. And we talk about China and occasionally a few personal things.”
“It appears, from what I observe at work, that he is quite friendly—even fond of you. And perhaps you of him?”
“He’s a very likeable man.”
“Yes, I like him too.” Reidar presented a cool face as he looked straight at her. “But are you very fond of him?”
She aimed him a stare like a shot across the bow.
“Solveig, it is my job to ask you these questions. When one gets joy from another, one becomes vulnerable; and at times, and in certain situations, one reveals more than one means to.” His gaze moved to a half-empty bottle of wine standing accusingly on the sideboard. She’d drawn from it modestly; it was not even good wine.
“Really, Reidar! Now tell me, doesn’t your wife have acquaintances here who might be spies? And might you, after a glass of wine, indicate something to her that could be relayed to others—”
“You do talk about the project with AnDe,” he interrupted. “I do not discuss the project with my wife. However, if it appeared that something along those lines was happening, you would be questioning me.”
She paused to calm down from her annoyance at his questions and at herself for using a faulty argument.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
She wondered what opinion Reidar had of her. Maybe a low one because they stood at very different places on the political spectrum. Or maybe he thought she was less competent because she was female and younger than him. Perhaps he thought Rolv should have been their “skipper.”
Finding herself in free fall, she grasped for anything. “Have you discussed this with security at home?”
“Yes, as I gather you have too.”
“And what did they say about me and AnDe?”
With his hands behind his head, he leaned back in the sofa. One of the cushion springs gave a loud creak.
“Anything?” she asked again.
He sucked in his breath and looked up at the ceiling as though he might find some security breach or bug embedded within it. “I can tell you only what I’m sure you already know: that they think there may be a breach of security—information being leaked out by someone on our team. That’s the other reason I’m here.”
A violent shiver, as though she had fallen into an icy pond, swept through her body. “What information, and to whom?”
He raised his eyebrows and stared at her. “You’ll need to ask them yourself. I can only say that it might be going to the Chinese.”
She collapsed in her armchair, struggling with an incipient desire to retch. A leak could jeopardize the entire project. She dug the fingers of both hands into the armrests of her chair to still her trembling and admonished herself not to assume too much.
“So you see why I needed to ask,” he said.
“Yes, of course.” She gathered her breath but her voice was meek, as if in confession. “I’d love to think he’s genuine, that he’s the noble person he appears to be, that his humor is real, and that he’s not probing, even though he’s probably been asked to dig for information. But I don’t know.” The last phrase exploded from her lips, “I just don’t know!”
Reidar circled his jaw in slow contemplation and gave her a long moment to recover.
She picked up her glass and slumped back into her seat.
“No, I don’t know either,” he said. “I only brought it up because of the news of a possible leak. More I can’t say right now.”
He made as if to stand up, then stopped. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, palms spread as if he were a pastor making an appeal at the end of a sermon. “Hey, I’m no psychologist, but I have observed what happens to a crew isolated in a submarine or surrounded for a long time by unfamiliar cultures and people. Problems like malaise, confusion, depression, even hysteria can set in after a few weeks. What keeps us together, maintains our sense of identity, self-worth, discretion, prudent judgment, and even happiness, is the presence and support of fellows from our own culture, our own frame of reference. It’s there that we find our roots. It’s there we get our values. Those are the reference points for finding ourselves in what otherwise would be an indistinguishable sea of possibilities. Without our comrades, we can lose our place and head in the wrong direction. With them, we find the judgment to decide tough issues, such as when we should cooperate and when we should not.”
&nb
sp; Submerged in the flow of his metaphors, Solveig swirled the drink in her glass, and let the little waves subside before uttering an inhaled, “Wow.” She swallowed and whispered, “You wax poetic.”
“A couple of months in a submarine, and you can start speaking in unexpected ways.”
“I’ve felt a bit underwater here, now and then.” She forced a smile.
“I know. So please take my advice; I mean it sincerely. You need to rely more on each of the rest of us. Don’t let this new issue deter you. And you really must join Eva and me for dinner more often. Especially now.”
“Thanks. I’ll do that. And I’ll remember your advice.”
He stood up to go. “Well, good evening, Solveig.”
“You, too.” As she accompanied him to the door, she queried, “Does it seem odd that I haven’t been contacted about the leak?”
“You probably were. They don’t always leave an unread message in the system for very long. You might try calling.” He gave a sharp, military-style nod, then walked out.
She stared at the blank door, wishing that the visage of another person—the correct one, whomever it could be—would appear with answers.
She spun around. Her heels generated muffled thuds as she marched to her desk where her international phone lay. Eventually, she got a secure channel back to Norway, reached her contact and heard much the same news about the leak.
“Do you think the information is going to the Chinese?” she asked.
“That’s one possibility. Or it could be going to the Russians or Americans. We don’t have the connections we used to in NATO, so it’s slow going. And our investigation is tricky, because some people in our intelligence system and in the government believe we should rejoin NATO. You might be aware that group includes Commander Hagerup.”
“Then Reidar is not above suspicion?”
“Not entirely, assuming the leak is not accidental. But given his background and subject areas, he’s the least suspect, in our opinion.”
“You’re saying someone could be releasing secrets accidentally?”
