by D. B. Goodin
Are we moving? Where is the Sultan sailing to? This was not part of the plan.
Chapter 13
Jeremiah’s compound, north of Edinburgh
Hunter was perched in a tower with a view of a courtyard. Hunter loved old castles: lots of hiding spots. Jeremiah had built his compound into the side of a hill, and several passages were visible from Hunter’s vantage point. Hunter scouted around the castle until he felt satisfied.
Time to engage.
Hunter pulled his black surgeon’s mask over his face. He was glad that he’d worn his gray cloak; it helped to conceal his movements against the dark stone and sky. With the precision of a ninja, Hunter jumped off the wall and behind an unsuspecting guard. Hunter had his piano wire handy, which he loved for dispatching foes; he liked its intimacy. He wanted to feel the life leaving their body. However, this time he needed to engage as few people as possible and dispose of any casualties. Hunter switched out the piano wire out for his second favorite weapon: his whip.
This is a reconnaissance mission, he reminded himself.
The guard turned around, looking for something. I’m not as silent as I thought. Hunter wanted to approach the guard from behind, but two factors made that problematic: the guard’s height and level of alertness.
This guy won’t sit still, Hunter thought.
Hunter was impatient from inaction, so he pulled out his whip, and with a flick of his wrist, the business end of the whip roped around the guard’s neck. The guttural choking sounds relaxed Hunter. He pulled the guard close, took out a syringe, and injected the man with his mother’s sleepy-time medicine. Hunter attempted to hide the guard’s body, but it wasn’t easy.
He’s too big and heavy to fit in a barrel.
Hunter was near the stables, so he went and got his hands on a horse blanket. He gagged the guard, wrapped him up with the blanket, and dragged the bundle behind several barrels. Best effort considering the circumstances, Hunter thought.
A long, darkened hallway led from the courtyard and stable area. Hunter followed it as it curved around in a semicircle. A heavy wooden door with an iron handle was visible at the end. He opened the door, but didn’t want to door to make any sound that would betray him; there was no one in sight. So far, his luck was holding. The room had no windows, so he felt comfortable turning on the light. It appeared to be a storage area: nothing but a few brooms, mops, and other cleaning supplies—nothing that interesting. He was about to leave when he spotted an alignment problem in the room’s corner; one part of the wall seemed wrong. He moved the brooms, mops, and other cleaning supplies to get a better perspective. Hunter pushed the wall; there was movement. Is this a secret passage? He heard a click, and then the wall looked normal, perfectly aligned. He pushed the wall again, this time near the edge, and the wall popped out. Hunter positioned his fingers and tried pulling the wall closer. His gloved hands slipped. He took his gloves off to get a better grip. He was able to pull it a few inches further out, and a dark gap was visible now. He put his fingers in the crack and then pulled.
Hunter had just enough room to slip in. It was pitch-black inside, but he could make out a handle bolted into the movable part of the wall. He pulled the wall closed behind him, listened, and then switched on his flashlight. He was atop a long, spiraling stairway that descended farther into darkness.
Good thing I didn’t start walking in the dark. Hunter counted each step as he made his way down the spiral; there were fifty-eight steps until the next landing. The staircase kept going in the downward spiral, but he wanted to find out what was down the hallway leading from the landing. Old castles have secret passages throughout, and he intended to make use of them. Nothing interesting was on the walls: no sliding panels for peepholes, nothing at all. At the end of the hall, a ladder set into the wall led up into darkness. He retreated when he heard shuffling steps; it sounded like someone was coming. He looked for a hiding spot—nothing! Hunter ascended the ladder about twenty feet. Then he saw it: light from an open flame casting long shadows on the floor and walls. He heard something being moved. He thought it might be a section of a wall. There must be another passage!
Hunter found himself in the hallway again, looking for a lever or switch that would lead to that secret area. After a long time, he stumbled on a loose stone. He pushed it, and the wall opened.
The walls of this other passage were black as night. Hunter shined his light on the wall, which seemed to absorb the light. The walls were smooth and cold to the touch, and the floor was polished. It reminded him of a floor in an office building. Very odd for a castle, he thought. Several doors were visible; Hunter decided not to try them without knowing where they led, and who might be behind them. The hall ended at a T-junction. He chose the left branch, and as he walked he noticed that it curved. Hunter heard someone in the distance, so he ducked into another room. He waited for a solid minute in the darkness before he switched on his flashlight. The room, which was circular, appeared to be a computer operations room; a circular table with several monitors stood in the middle of the room.
What in the world is—?
Someone was coming. He heard movement just outside the door, and someone was speaking. The door cracked open. It appeared to Hunter that the person holding the door handle was trying to get the person to leave. I need to find a way out, but where? Hunter looked up: a ventilation shaft. Hunter climbed his way to the shaft, opened it, and entered just in time. More voices. Hunter was sweating; it covered his hands in so much perspiration that he slipped.
Holy shit, that was close!
Hunter had caught himself just before reaching the vent, which rattled in its frame. The voices continued chatting. They hadn’t heard evidence of Hunter’s slipup.
“We need to be ready for the transfer soon. April is deteriorating at a rapid rate,” a woman’s voice said.
“I’m not ready for her to go,” a male voice said.
“You need to prepare yourself for the worst, Jeremiah. The process is experimental.”
“We . . . I need this to work. I will make sure that Mel is on board,” Jeremiah said.
“Be sure you do. We already have enough complications. Ron Allison is being difficult.”
“I can persuade him if you need help.”
“I need him alive,” the woman’s voice insisted.
“Ash, you know I can be reasonable when motivated,” Jeremiah said.
“I know you can, dear,” Ash said.
The lights in the room below went out, and the voices trailed off. Hunter waited several more minutes before making any moves. He started moving backward when he saw the soft luminescence of another light source farther down the ventilation shaft.
Hunter had enough room to move in the ventilation duct without making a lot of noise. He couldn’t think of a better way of gathering additional intel. He moved toward the source of the light source and lowered his mask. It was warm in here, and sweat ran down his face. He stopped at the source of the light and looked through the grate. The room was spartan. It reminded him of a hotel room, because it had the same single chair, couch and end table he’d seen in every hotel. He cocked his head enough to see the rest of the room. Hunter noticed a woman several years older than him. She had long black hair, pale white skin, and nice facial features.
It’s her! The record keeper at the Shadow Dealers. What is she doing here?
The woman was sitting on the chair, looking through something on her tablet.
Photographs? Hunter wondered. He was too far away to see exactly what they were, but judging from the groups of people in the images, they were likely family photos.
A man entered the room. Hunter recognized him as Jeremiah Mason.
“Hey, Mel, do you have a moment?”
The woman looked up at Jeremiah. Her eyes were moist, and she appeared to be crying, but Hunter was too far away to be sure.
“I don’t think I’m ready for her to go, Dad!” Melissa said.
“Well, we don’
t have to be. Dr. Ash has a way to transfer her consciousness into a healthy host.”
“Host? What host?”
“Dr. Ash is preparing it now. She has developed a way to transfer her brain into a cyborg body. It will still be April, but in another body. You will have another chance to be the mother I know you want to be—”
“No!” Melissa said, cutting Jeremiah off.
“Mel, I know it’s difficult.”
“You don’t know what difficult is: being taken away from your love, only to find out that you’re pregnant.”
“I needed to get you away from that man. He was nothing but trouble,” Jeremiah said.
“Byron was a good guy. He had a decent job, and he was almost finished with his computer engineering degree. And you sent him away! He would have been a great father.”
“He would have—if he was the father. You had multiple partners during your fun times at school,” Jeremiah said.
“What!”
“I thought you knew me better than that! If Byron were the true father, I would have given him a job. I could’ve used another pair of hands while building Leviathan.”
Melissa looked confused.
“I . . . don’t know who the father is, then . . .” Melissa trailed off, deep in thought.
“I know who the father is. A vile scumbag whom I have kept you away from all these years,” Jeremiah said.
“Who?”
“I will not compromise your safety by revealing that information.”
“How long have you known?”
“From the beginning. I didn’t think you’d remember him. You were intoxicated that night,” Jeremiah said.
“How dare you! The guilt that you put me through. You were spying on me!” Melissa put her face in her hands and wept.
Jeremiah stroked her hair, and then took her into his arms.
“Let it all out, dear,” Jeremiah said.
I thought my family was screwed up, Hunter thought.
Hunter waited a long time before moving again. The confrontation had transfixed him.
Better to keep moving.
Hunter continued to trudge through the ventilation shaft. It narrowed as he progressed.
I hope it doesn’t get any smaller!
He didn’t know how far he had gone; he’d lost track of all time and distance. Hunter risked another flash of his light: a vent was visible ahead to his left. He was about to smash it in when he heard Jeremiah.
Christ, this man was everywhere!
“All systems online. How can I help you, Dr. Mason?” a female voice said in an upbeat tone.
“Verify Deep Web vault integrity,” Jeremiah said.
“It will take six-point-four-seven hours to apply all algorithms for two-point-six-nine petabytes of data. Would you like to proceed?”
“Proceed, Leviathan, but send a list of all sealed locks to my visor.”
Jeremiah put his visor on as he left the facility. His heads-up display (HUD) gave him a wealth of information all at once. It featured built-in eye-tracking technology so Jeremiah didn’t need to wave his hands around.
“Should I keep the search for other AIs running in the background, or do you want to pause that search to allocate more resources to the integrity check?” Leviathan asked.
“No, Lev. It is imperative that both run in parallel,” Jeremiah said.
“I have found two promising candidates. Shall I tell you about them?”
“Yes, please do,” Jeremiah said.
As Jeremiah walked down the hall from his lab, Leviathan displayed information about the potential candidates on his visor.
“Since you told me to target artificial intelligences at smaller, independent research centers, I came up with two selections for your approval.”
“Proceed.”
“The first AI is located on the campus of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology—”
“You call that low profile?”
“You didn’t let me finish, Dr. Mason,” Leviathan said.
“My apologies.”
“The AI in question is an underfunded project run by an undergraduate student. He has created the AI in his private lab. The AI is trained and would make a suitable candidate for our East Coast hub, since it features a fiber backbone and a quantum computer.”
“Interesting. Have you inventoried its algorithms?”
“I have, and I’ve calculated a 98.6 percent success rate at algorithm integration. There is one slight problem. Someone has to gain access to the machine interface before the system can be integrated.”
“Tell me about the other potential candidate.”
“The second-most compatible AI is inaccessible via the internet. I was only able to access it after . . . borrowing some quantum computer technology.”
“I see. Explain how you did that.”
“This particular AI was only visible when it needed to make a transfer of data to someone on the surface web. That is how I learned of its existence,” Leviathan said. “The network traffic pattern from the AI revealed certain beaconing patterns I recognized as covert channels present in almost every Dark Web connection. This AI wasn’t using the Dark Web.”
Jeremiah stopped walking.
“What was it using?”
“An unindexed part of the internet known as the Deep Web. It is like the Dark Web because it is inaccessible via a conventional web browser. Unlike the Dark Web, it takes more than a MORP browser client to access this part of the Deep Web.”
“Carry on!”
“This AI is special because it is in an unknown part of the Deep Web called Marianas Web and is on the fifth ring of the infamous eight levels of the Deep Web. To maintain a connection to this area of the Deep Web, we need a sufficient quantum computer,” Leviathan said.
“Were you able to able to gain the quantum computing power to do a sufficient trace of the AI?”
“I was. However, it was only temporary since it takes an enormous amount of computing power to even get to that level of the Deep Web, let alone do anything else. I could borrow computing cycles from one of the largest manufactures of quantum computers in upstate New York.”
“How much actual reconnaissance were you able to do on the AI?”
“Minimal, but I see its potential. Gaining access to this AI requires all available computing resources that you have, and it requires additional computer power.”
“How much computing power?”
“At least five hundred qubits.”
“That is a lot of quantum computing power. Have you discovered other candidates from which we can borrow?”
“Most computer science labs at research institutions or large corporations operate minimal staff during the holidays. It is possible to gain that much power. I have also found some quantum computers being used by your rivals.”
“Which ones?”
“A group called Black Iris has an AI capacity of at least four thousand qubits.”
“Where?”
“In the Black Sea. They house the AI in the same facility as Black Iris’s offline vault system—an area inaccessible to us. But you have an agent there.”
“Oh . . . I remember now. That is where I put Byron. Excellent!”
Hunter was inside the facility for an entire day, but it felt like a week. His muscles ached from the exertion and stress of nearly crashing in on Melissa. I’m glad I didn’t get caught, and to be back on familiar ground, even if it was his mother’s place. As soon as he got home, he went to the dining room and collapsed on a chair.
“Hunter, what’s the news?”
Jony’s voice startled Hunter for a second.
“Why are you so jumpy?” Jony asked.
“Why did you sneak up on me, anyway?” Hunter asked, his voice sharp.
Jony looked confused. “You walked into the dining room just now. You know—the area we’ve been working in over the past week?”
“Oh, I . . . was deep in thought. Is Mum here?”
�
�She’s in the study. She has that bloody Sultan on the line.”
“What country does the Sultan lead, anyway?” Hunter said.
Jony laughed. “He’s not a real Sultan—just thinks he is. Nah, he is a bloke from Morocco with a lot of money.” After a pause, Jony continued, “So, you going to spill? What did you find up there?”
“Mason has developed an artificial intelligence so advanced that it is interrogating other AIs around the world.”
Jony seemed to be lost in thought. “I didn’t think that was possible.”
“I overheard a conversation between Jeremiah and a bloody computer, which sounded like Mirai.”
“The voice inside those home automation systems?”
“Yeah, but he didn’t call it that. He called it Lev, or something like that.”
“Who is Lev?” Dahlia said.
Hunter hadn’t heard his mother come in.
“The voice of the AI that Jeremiah Mason was talking to,” Hunter said.
“What else don’t I know?” she asked.
Hunter got his mother up to speed before proceeding.
“What do the Timeslicers want with an AI?” Dahlia said.
“They talked about Black Iris having an AI.” Hunter said. “What’s that about?”
Jony looked at Dahlia. She nodded.
“It’s an experimental project I call AlphaFour,” Jony said.
Hunter chose his next words carefully. He didn’t want to sound like an idiot.
“I’m not sure what the Timeslicers want with these, but if he is attacking other AIs, he has something up his sleeve,” Hunter said.
“If he is launching attacks against other AIs, then he has a lot more processing power than we do,” Jony said.
“How much processing power does AlphaFour have?” Hunter asked.
Jony seemed surprised by the question. “AlphaFour has over twelve hundred processor cores in a meshed network,” he answered.
“Jeremiah mentioned nothing about cores. I think it said ‘cubes’ or something?”
“Qubits? Is that the term?”
