Durand gave him an exasperated look. “I’m not interested in your—”
“Not that sort of business. I mean business. She was more than a little concerned when she learned of Vegas’s demise, and she was eager to exchange the baht we had for biocoin. She might be heading to her home village to lie low for a while.”
“Can we trust her?”
“We’re going to have to trust her. Vegas trusted her, and she was more than helpful. Look . . .” Frey held up a gleaming piece of obsidian etched with a gold stylized aircraft logo. “She showed me where he kept his credit fobs.”
“What is that?” Durand took it.
“A hideously expensive, zero-memory, on-demand autonomous electric jet service—Jet Black. This will bring us a lot closer to Myanmar.”
“We won’t be able to get near an airport.”
“We won’t have to. Vertical takeoff and landing. We can use the helipad outside. Costs a goddamned fortune, but it’s not our money.” He took the credit fob back. “More importantly, I got in touch with my Shan contact last night. They’re still alive, and they said they would agree to smuggle us over the border and through the Burmese highlands—although it’s going to cost us.”
Durand started to get dressed. “How much?”
“Half a million US dollars. Pretty much everything we had.”
“How do you know these Shan people of yours aren’t going to just kill us?”
“Their payment is contingent on our safe arrival in Naypyidaw. With Gardenia’s help, I converted all our cash into a single encrypted wallet, and gave the Shan a down payment of a hundred thousand. They get the balance when we arrive safely.”
“They could torture the code out of you.”
“They’d have no reason to. They’re making the trip anyway, and I’ve helped them a great deal in the past—which is the only reason Shan938 agreed to take us.”
“Shan938—that’s the name of your contact?”
“It’s the only name I was ever given. I’ve never met any of them in person.”
Durand narrowed his eyes. “How do you know these aren’t just criminals? Or scammers?”
“Because they’ve paid me considerably more than this over the years for genetic editing of their crops. And this account holder had the encryption keys and digital signature to prove they are who they say. You must understand, these Shan are a spiritual people—Buddhists. The central government keeps trying to kill them, and they just want to be left alone. They’re not criminals.”
“What do they know about us?”
“I told them you and I need to get to the capital of Myanmar, and if the central government knew what we planned on doing there, they’d probably try to kill us.”
“And they didn’t ask what we’ll be doing?”
Frey shook his head.
“You conducted this exchange over an encrypted line, I hope.”
“Now I’m insulted. I break the law for a living.”
“What route will we be taking?”
“They didn’t say what route we’d be taking. Operational security. They’ll want to be certain we’re not working with the Tatmadaw first, of course. All they gave me was GPS coordinates and a date and time to meet: three o’clock this afternoon.”
Durand shot a concerned look Frey’s way. “This afternoon? That’s cutting it close, isn’t it? What is that, four hundred miles away?”
“Yes, but we’ll have a jet. Shan938 said if we arrive in anything else or with anyone else, we’ll be shot out of the sky.”
Durand just stared at Frey. “What time did you get up this morning?”
“I didn’t sleep . . .” Frey brought up a three-dimensional satellite map of the Thai-Burmese border region, projecting it where the video screen was. The entire glass wall was replaced by an aerial view of hundreds of square miles of jungle-choked mountains and brown, snaking rivers. A yellow dot highlighted a mountain clearing fifteen kilometers from the Burmese border. “That’s where they wanted to meet.”
Durand pointed at the bracelet Frey was using to control the video screen. “Where’d you get the comm bracelet?”
Frey went into the hallway and came back with a box brimming with dozens of phablets, bracelets, circlets, and LFP glasses. He dumped them on the bed. “Like I said: Tang liked his privacy. These are all prepaid. Bought by surrogates from all over Thailand. He even kept receipts.” Frey smirked. “You know what they say: when privacy is criminalized, only criminals will have privacy.”
Durand poked through the pile. “I’m not who you think I am, Bryan. I’m no more a fan of total surveillance than you are.” He grabbed a pair of LFP glasses and looked back up at the map projected over the glass wall. “These Shan people of yours, you’re confident they can smuggle us to the capital?”
“They smuggle everything. The Burmese military has declared foreign biofacturing tools and software illegal. The resistance brings in high-tech equipment, weapons, money.”
Durand turned the mountainous map model this way and that. It looked like seriously rugged terrain. “You said the central government deployed deep-maneuver weapons in this region?”
Frey gave him a blank stare.
“Autonomous drones. Robotic weapons.”
“Oh, right. Last year. It’s a regular arms bazaar out there.”
Durand grunted. “Those might be a problem. The worst ones generate their own energy—grow their own algae biofuels from decomposing plant matter. They can remain in the field for months. Sometimes years. Waiting.”
“Why am I not surprised you know about this sort of thing?”
“I didn’t say I approved of them. I just know about them.” He looked back at the map. “Let’s summon this Jet Black of yours.”
• • •
They waited on the patio for nearly an hour, but finally they heard the hissing sound of an approaching jet. The Lilium electric jet was sleeker than the Ehang chopper—predictably black, with wings that extended from the rear of a lozenge-shaped cabin and smaller ducted electric fans up front. A line of dozens more small-ducted fan jets ran the entire length of both wings. Apparently it utilized an array of massively redundant smaller jet engines instead of a few big ones.
The aircraft rose above the railing from below, rotated, and settled with uncanny accuracy in the center of the helipad. Its jets wound down while a voice called out loudly, “Stand clear. Stand clear. Stand clear.” Red lights flashed.
Once the engines fell silent, the tinted gull-wing doors opened, as did a luggage compartment. “Call me Jet Black. Welcome.”
Durand watched with some consternation as Frey dragged two large duffel bags across the pavement. He struggled to heave them into the jet’s cargo bay. “What’s all that?”
“If you’re concerned about theft, let me remind you that the former owner was a criminal. So it’s already stolen—I’m just moving it.”
Durand shook his head and climbed into the passenger compartment. Again a two-seater, it was even more finely appointed than Vegas’s fleet of Ehangs. The seats looked to have been handmade with real, organic leather.
Frey followed a moment later. As he sat down, the synthetic voice spoke: “Aircraft overloaded by twenty-seven kilograms. Please remove at least twenty-seven kilograms of weight.”
“Damnit.” Durand got out before Frey could beat him to it. He opened the cargo hatch and pulled out the first duffel bag. It was unwieldy. He unzipped it. “What the hell is in here?”
Durand pulled out what looked like a portable pharmaceutical printer.
Frey came up alongside him. “The Shan could make good use of that. Korean-made. It’s high-quality gear, and it’ll only be confiscated by the police if it remains here.”
Durand pulled out a dozen bottles of expensive-looking liquor, packages of vaping supplies. He tossed them onto the pa
tio, then shoved the half-empty duffel bag back into the cargo compartment.
They both climbed back in and buckled up in frosty silence.
Frey finally said, “That wasn’t all for me, you know. There are gift protocols in Asian society that one should try to follow.”
“Half a million dollars makes a damn nice gift.”
“Say ‘Jet Black’ and tell me your desired destination.”
AR maps and gauges appeared in front of them both. Frey began to manipulate the map to enter destination coordinates.
Durand stopped him. “Don’t enter the coordinates now. Plug in a popular destination nearby. A tourist spot would be perfect.”
“I’ve got the GPS coordinates right here.”
“If anyone’s tracking us, we don’t need to give them hours to prepare a reception committee. Give it a destination that isn’t going to set off any red flags, and we’ll change it at the last minute when we get close.”
“I suppose I should listen to a man who spies on people for a living . . .” Frey spoke to the AI. “Jet Black: Fly us to . . . Chiang Mai Airport, please.”
“Why do you say ‘please’ to these things?”
“Because it’s polite, that’s why.”
“They sell that information to advertisers.”
“They sell the fact that I’m polite to machines?”
“They sell the fact that you’re susceptible to technical animism.”
“So what if I am?”
“Tell me that after your machines start to sound wounded if you don’t buy something.”
The electric duct fans hissed to life, and a synthetic voice spoke: “Your journey to Chiang Mai International Airport is estimated at two hours and thirteen minutes. Please prepare for liftoff, and feel free to call my name if you need anything while we are en route.”
Chapter 33
The Lilium electric jet was smooth and quiet. They cruised along at three thousand meters altitude going several hundred kilometers per hour. Durand reclined, consumed with his own thoughts, while Frey snored, sound asleep just minutes after takeoff.
Durand watched the mirrored office towers of Bangkok’s CBD recede quickly behind them. Before long they soared past the last residential block and golf course and set out over a patchwork of long, rectangular rice fields. Durand could see orange robotic farm machinery in the shallow rice paddies. The wide central plain of Thailand spread out before him, traced by glittering rivers and dotted with golden temples.
Despite his deep concerns over what lay ahead, Durand found himself thinking about how much his daughter, Mia, would have loved this flight. He suddenly felt very homesick—but also relieved to feel that again. He tried to keep his focus on who he was: he was Kenneth Durand. Examining his arms, he was comforted to see that his tattoos had hidden themselves again. They seemed to be appearing more and more lately.
As the Lilium jet traveled north, the rivers multiplied and hillocks appeared in the plains, until green jungle foothills drew in from either side. Mountainous regions were barely visible beyond the humid haze. The occasional gleaming golden pagoda caught the sun’s light. Whitewashed stupas and the stepped roofs of temples mixed in with office buildings and shopping malls. The little jet raced northward for hours until around midday a large city came into view ahead. The AR mapping system labeled it Chiang Mai, with cultural markers popping up like mushrooms.
Soft chimes sounded. “I hope you’re enjoying your flight. We’ve begun our descent to Chiang Mai International Airport autonomous transport terminal, and should be on the ground within ten minutes.”
Durand nudged the snoring Frey as the jet began to descend.
Frey snapped alert. “Yes. What is it?”
“Time to enter your coordinates.”
“Chiang Mai already?”
“Yes.”
“Damn. I want to bring this seat with us. Let me sleep for just a few more minutes.”
Durand elbowed Frey sharply in the ribs. “Up! Key in the coordinates.”
Frey sighed and sat up. He manipulated a few invisible objects in his glasses. “Jet Black.”
“How can I help you?”
“Substitute new destination.”
A larger map appeared before them. “Surcharges may apply. Where would you like to go?”
“Travel to these GPS coordinates: 19° 35’ 26.18” north latitude and 98° 0’ 54.96” east longitude. Desired arrival time: three p.m. local.”
“Please wait . . .” After a few moments the onboard systems calculated their path and displayed a map into their retinas. The synthetic voice said, “Your selected destination lies inside a safety advisory zone. Additional insurance charges will be . . . 400 percent of the standard rate. Do you accept? Please indicate.”
Frey raised an eyebrow. “Just an extra forty-two thousand US dollars in insurance? Why not? I don’t think Vegas will mind.” He clicked the “Yes” button hovering in midair.
“A rerouting surcharge of 25 percent also applies. Do you accept?”
Frey gritted his teeth and clicked “Yes.”
“Thank you. Estimated arrival time at new destination, three p.m. local time. Enjoy your flight.”
They curved left, away from Chiang Mai, heading up toward the mountains to the northwest.
The weather was clear as the jet sailed over jungle-filled ravines, waterfalls, and rapids. Treetops raced past the viewports at their feet. And suddenly a golden stupa dome appeared, glittering in the sunlight, but then gone as they raced still upward past more jungle. When they crested the first mountain, a vast terrain of rugged jungle wilderness stretched out before them. Rainstorms were visible in the far distance, with flashes of lightning and dark clouds and shadows, but here it was still clear. Steam rose from various pockets in the dense forests below.
Durand scanned the horizon. It was becoming clear how vast this jungle was.
Frey grimaced. “Why do I get the feeling we’re not dressed properly for this?”
Durand looked down at their business casual clothes and loafers. “We’ll deal with it.”
“At least we’ll be the best-dressed people in the resistance.”
They soared within fifty meters of the highest ridge. A golden Buddha statue passed below inside a tiled, peaked roof at the summit.
Beyond it the land fell out beneath them. Ahead tall peaks still loomed. Their destination appeared in AR as a glowing green dot, beamed into their eyes. They were going in. The jet’s engines decreased.
“Jet Black here. I hope you’re enjoying your flight. We’re beginning our descent to coordinates 19° 35’ 26.18” north latitude and 98° 0’ 54.96” east longitude. Please prepare for landing.”
The jet glided downward, rocking in minor turbulence.
Frey glanced at the clock. “Look at that: 2:59 p.m. See? That’s what I like about machines—precision.”
“Tell me that when we’re facing killer drones.”
The jet rocked a bit more before it entered a sloping valley surrounded on all sides by much higher jungle peaks. They turned, spiraling down toward the only clearing in sight. It was ringed by tangled brush and short, broad-leafed trees. There were no structures or people in sight.
The jet’s forward thrusters kicked in, and they went into a hover just above the landing zone. The grass billowed away from the jet wash.
The synthetic voice said, “There is no standardized landing pad here. In order to land do you agree to accept any and all liability?” A “Yes/No” pop-up appeared.
Frey sighed. “Yes.” He stabbed at the button.
Another pop-up instantly appeared.
“Do you agree to an additional 800 percent insurance surcharge? Please indicate.”
Another “Yes/No” pop-up appeared.
“Jesus, I’m stealing the money, and I still feel like
I’m getting robbed.”
“Just hit the button.”
Frey tapped the “Yes” button.
“Thank you. Please prepare for a potentially rough landing. And in any event, thank you for flying Jet Black.”
The jet rotated, hovered a moment more, then gently descended, touching down perfectly on a gently sloped clearing. The jet motors began to wind down immediately.
It was precisely three p.m.
Frey smacked the dashboard. “After all that it was completely safe. What a waste of a hundred thousand dollars.”
“Would you prefer we crashed?”
“At least we’d be getting our money’s worth.”
Durand opened his door, and a wave of heat and humidity hit him. It made Singapore seem pleasant.
They both exited and crunched across flattened cane grass to the front of the Lilium, examining the jungle hilltops all around them.
Frey scowled. “I’m gonna miss that air-conditioning.”
They both removed their suit jackets.
There was a deep thrum of insects, the calls of birds and screeching macaques. The din of living things here was relentless. The clearing they stood in obviously had been hacked out of the jungle, because all around them was deep, tangled brush and trees.
“Where are these friends of yours?”
“Observing us, no doubt.”
Just then a sound like a large insect approached, expanding into a deep hum. They turned upward to see a purple consumer quadcopter drone hovering ten meters above them. It carried a camera on a gimbal that turned to survey them and then their jet. The drone then descended and hovered a few meters in front of them.
A synthesized male voice emanated from a speaker somewhere on it. “Dismiss your aircraft.”
Frey looked to Durand.
Durand spoke without emotion. “We’re either dead, or we’re going to Myanmar. Either way, we don’t need the jet.”
Frey nodded but spoke to the hovering drone. “I need to get equipment out of the cargo bay first.”
A moment of silence.
Then, “We did not agree to bring your equipment. Just you two.”
Change Agent Page 30
