It was a clever little code, letting him piggyback directly off of the rebuilding process—and christ did that AI move fast—slingshotting him directly behind the remaining security walls by attaching himself to the credentials of the hacker themselves. And there it was: a static IP address buried deep in the back with a note left as though it were just for him: Jonathan Byron.
As soon as he hit the last point in the breach, the AI threw up an entirely novel firewall to finally force him out. It really was seamless, the way the binary wrote itself out in real time, too fast to be computed by anything but a machine, executing too quickly to possibly require the approval of the hacker. The code looked eerily familiar, like a mashup of his defense of the CIA and the signature flair he knew Emily preferred, a touch of Miranda’s pragmatic layering at the base. No, he thought, a stone settling somewhere in his gut as he realized what this demonstration really was, not a mash up. A perfect creative merger.
Of course, that was when it all went to shit. The moment the firewall went up, an explosion reverberated through the room, lights and screens going dark, plunging the room into blackness. The computer itself showered him in sparks, surge originating from the tower and moving out along the power lines to other equipment at neighboring booths. He felt his phone go hot in his jacket pocket, damn near burning a hole straight through as the battery heated up. He shoved himself away from the station, throwing his phone on the floor as he did, disoriented by his ringing ears. Even the reinforced frames of his glasses felt warm.
Arthur swore, the noise almost lost in the alarmed shouts of the hall’s other occupants, all of them panicked by the explosion and the sudden darkness. Somewhere across the room, a door slammed open. Across the aisle, an electrical outlet’s ground wire had been burned out, sparking madly before the banner on the wall caught fire like a roman torch, rapidly spreading through the booths and casting their side of the conference hall in a shifting orange haze.
“Localized EMP,” he shouted towards his agent, right as he felt hands clamp around his shoulders and mouth. He went stock still for an instant, panicked, before his instinct kicked in and he elbowed back wildly, briefly unsettling his attacker. “Arthur!”
The weight vanished from his back with the chilling crack of a gun against bone, replaced by the familiar scent of his agent as he pressed him to his left side. Another set of hands attempted to grab for him, similarly rebuffed. Arthur hauled him forward, pushing relentlessly towards the back exit on the far wall, shoving through booths and displays in the dim room.
A hand grasped around his. “Syler!”
“Emily, you need to run!”
“Fucking am, you asshole!” He could hear her panting even as the room was filled with more screaming, mass panic instigated by the gunfire. Gunshots sounded somewhere to his right. Arthur swore, ducking down behind a display, tucking all three of them down behind it.
“We’re twenty feet from the rear exit,” he murmured. “Straight ahead, one more aisle of techie bullshit. I’ll cover, you go!”
“Like hell I’m—” Emily snatched his hand, pulling him into a run as Arthur jumped up, laser sight and torch light flashing on as he worked to return fire against their assailants. They made it to the next set of booths, a scant few feet from the emergency exit, daylight seeping in around the edges, before a pair of armed men grabbed for them both.
Syler turned, snarling, pulling his Sig from his jacket pocket and firing it off into his attacker’s shoulder before the automatic laser sight even powered on. Behind him, Emily aimed a well placed knee into her attacker’s stomach, elbow taking him by surprise across the face, and he dropped as she swept a foot behind him and kicked out her hip, old self-defense lessons apparently paying off. She pressed up to him, back-to-back, both panting.
Arthur sprinted over, shouting. “The fuck are you waiting for! Move!”
Well you didn’t need to tell him twice. He surged for the exit door, Emily and Arthur hot on his heels, bursting out into sunlight, blinking rapidly and swearing as the bright light threw off his already tenuous balance. Arthur pressed a hand to the small of his back, shoving him forward and down the back alley, not pausing in their sprint until all three of them came out the other side. He pulled them into a side alcove, checking the streets. A stream of people were exiting both the front and rear of the building to the sound of fire alarms and encroaching sirens. The EMP seemed to have knocked out power to the entire block at least, along with every bit of communications equipment Arthur and Syler had on them. They needed to get back to their hotel.
“Sheath your weapon,” he barked, firm arm on Syler. “Let’s go.” Arthur tugged him along into the crowd, pushing another block before he slowed. He wrapped an arm around Syler’s waist, pulling him in tight, face stony. Beside him, Emily looked stunned. “Where are you staying?”
She glanced over at the agent. “Three blocks north, right up there.”
“Same as us. When we get to the hotel, get your things and go home. You don’t want to be here for this.”
“No, no, I don’t think I do,” she muttered, brushing back a piece of hair as she panted. “Christ, we’re having a fucking talk, Syler.”
“Later,” the engineer mumbled, moving to hurry them both up.
Arthur held him firm, pace more sedate. “If you run, it draws attention. We don’t need anymore of that, sweetheart.” All the same, the man kept them tight to the buildings lining the streets, slow but purposeful strides taking them back to the hotel in a scant handful of minutes that did absolutely nothing for his racing pulse. Arthur pulled out his key card to access one of the side doors, standing back to check if they’d been followed as his charges went inside. “Clear for now. You,” he pointed to Emily, “go home.”
She eyed him up, hands on hips, somehow brazen in the face of it all. “If anything happens to him, I will find you, Secret Agent Arm Candy.” She turned to Syler, darting in for a quick hug. “Room 216 if you need me, but I won’t be staying long.” She gave him a weak grin before darting off in the direction of the stairs.
---
Once they returned to the hotel room, Arthur was on him, hands running the length of his body to check for injuries.
“I’m fine Arthur,” he promised, shoving him off roughly and spinning towards the desk. “Hearing is a bit garbage, but that’ll die down.”
The other man nodded stiffly. “We need to leave.”
“No, I need to get in contact with Miranda. All of our long range communications devices got fucking fried. I have a back up short range set in our luggage, but I need her to start work on that trace asap before the fucker moves.” Arthur looked absolutely furious at the insubordination. “I have a name, Arthur, and a location. One is likely a fake and the other is going to be moving soon. Also, fuck me sideways, that isn’t augmented AI hacking!”
That got the other man’s attention. “What is it then?”
“Something that passes the fucking Turing test!” he snapped, fingers already flying over his laptop. “It’s not augmented. It’s not human-directed. It’s free-functioning, self-directed learning. It’s fully artificial intelligence. That was the test—human or AI!”
Arthur’s brow furrowed. “And why is this worth sticking around for?”
“Because I just taught it how to hack like I do Arthur! And so did Emily and every other fucking security specialist who sat down to test it before me, and every agency defending firewalls, and every government to boot. It’s learned with every single incursion and if we don’t find this bastard and eradicate his program, kiss every form of cyber security as you know it goodbye.” He took a deep breath, calling up Miranda as he finished. “The best of the best have been squaring off against an intelligent machine not a person. And that machine learns in real time.”
“It can get into the agency now?”
“Oh, almost certainly. Miranda?”
“What the fuck is happening over there?” Boothman called. The Colonel and Miranda
could be heard over the speaker as well.
“Localized EMP detonated when I got through the last layer of cyber security the bastard put up around his connection. It was absolutely a trap. Name is Jonathan Byron, transmitting static IP so you can get a location lock. He’s designed a fully independent AI that can hack and defend in live time through adaptive learning.”
The collective sounds of swearing from his entire operations staff was reassuring right up until the moment he realized his computer was actively being breached.
“Boss—”
“Yeah, me too,” he replied, setting to work disconnecting from the network before the program could bypass his safeties. “I’m going to try to keep it occupied. You work on getting me a lock.” Static greeted him. He tore off the headset, swearing.
Arthur held a position at the door, gun at the ready. “Enough. We’re leaving.”
“To where?” Staccato quick taps punctuated the tension as he worked to repel the attack while pulling up a location lock for the hacker. “It just took out the entire CIA computer network with my lock down protocol and it’s about to take out mine if I don’t find him first.”
“Syler—”
Thirty-Two
What happened next was a bit of a blur, Syler reflected from his position in the back of a van, sandwiched between two armed goons no less. Honestly, a van. This day really couldn’t get worse. His dignity might never recover. Arthur was never going to let him out of sight again so long as they both still lived and he couldn’t even blame the man.
He tamped down on the urge to giggle hysterically, nerves teetering on the knife edge between complete collapse and riotous snark. The vehicle turned sharply to the left. Syler remained upright only by bracing against the asshole beside him. His borrowed glasses sat slightly askew on the bridge of his nose, arms locked uncomfortably behind him by a series of zip ties. God, they’d even put a fucking bag over his head.
Whether they’d been followed back to the hotel by the hired help or traced by the AI system was anyone’s guess. He hadn’t really had the time to verify which it was between the door slamming open and Arthur getting rushed by a half dozen men. Under normal circumstances, he’d have been fine to dispatch them at his leisure. Normal, of course, being predicated upon him not having engineer babysitting duty. As it was, the bastards had wrestled him into the back of the vehicle and merrily sped off by the time his agent had brushed off his own opponents.
Squaring his shoulders back as best as he was able, he turned his head in the direction of Goon A on his right. “So,” he began blithely, and oh, it looks like riotous snark won out. “Do I get to know where we’re going?”
“You’ll find out,” Goon B grunted from his left.
“Wasn’t talking to you,” he announced merrily.
“Shut the fuck up,” Goon C called from the driver’s seat. Probably the one in charge then.
Syler tamped down on the urge to say ‘make me,’ but only just barely. His agent would be incredibly miffed if he got himself shot for mouthing off at the hired help and the assholes had already confiscated both of his guns so he wouldn’t even get the pleasure of firing back. He gave into the impulse to roll his eyes, grateful for the bag if only because he didn’t have to worry about controlling his facial expressions. He wasn’t sure he had the remaining energy reserves.
As they took another turn just a bit too sharply, Syler careened into Goon B, who shoved him back unceremoniously, hard enough to leave a bruise. He slammed back into Goon A, who shoved him from the other side. Behind the bag, his lips curled up in a snarl.
The car slowed to a stop and Syler faintly made out the sound of a garage bay door opening before they drove in. The door was rolled closed with a rumbling finality. Goon C cut the engine off with a sputter while Goon A threw the van’s door wide open, at which point the young man found himself ignominiously hauled out by his shoulders at the hands of Goon B.
Christ, he really hoped Arthur was hot on their heels. Syler was already so done with this entire year.
---
By the time Arthur had dispatched his unwanted company and thrown himself through the exit door into the hotel’s back alley, Syler was long gone. He swore a blue streak, already turning to head back to the room to see if he’d left one of the bastards alive enough to kindly share with him where the fuck his handler had been taken.
“Where the hell is Syler, Arm Candy?”
His eyes fell on the petite blonde woman standing in the open fire door just behind him, hilariously unthreatening in her singed cardigan and frazzled blonde dutch braids. He snorted. “Not now, techie.”
“You have no fucking idea, do you?” She followed hot on his heels as he marched back to the room. “Well?”
“So sorry, but I don’t really have time to sit down and explain,” he snapped. “Run along.” Emily snorted behind him, short legs surprisingly quick to keep up as he stormed back to their second floor room. “Wrong direction, blondie.”
“Yeah, shut up. They took my friend in a hail of gunfire I think half the block heard. I’m not leaving.” She stepped through the broken door frame and into the hotel room, barely sparing a glance at the splintered oak wood door. The half dozen bodies on the floor did give her pause, but she seemed to shake herself out of it quickly enough. It just figured that Syler was friends with an equally unflappable scientist who shared similarly abominable taste in fashion.
“Well you’re not coming with me,” he countered, methodically checking for anyone still in possession of a pulse. “Damnit.”
“Killed them too good, did you?” she inquired, moving towards Syler’s laptop. She cursed to find the computer in lock out mode, well and good taken down by the AI for now. Arthur ignored her, busy checking the bodies for any hint of a location. Nothing. “Alright,” she called, “new plan.”
“You’re not part of this.”
“I have a standing job offer and you need help. Come on,” she announced, heading for the door with Syler’s laptop tucked under her arm. “And bring whatever shit you’ll need to retrieve him. Guns, gadgets, fancy communicators. Whatever the hell it is you government agent types use.” She tossed him a put upon expression over her shoulder when he didn’t budge, entirely reminiscent of the one his handler usually graced him with when he was being especially difficult.
Out of options and unable to get in contact with HQ, he gave in. “What do you have in mind?”
She grinned viciously. “I watched S hack that computer too, you know? I saw the IP address and name that cropped up and it’s hardly a stretch at this point to guess you’re looking for whoever is behind it. I ran it when I got back to my room. It’s local and my resolver should be done tracing it by now. With any luck, that’s where they took Syler.”
Arthur fixed her with an appraising look as he moved to collect their spare equipment. “If this goes to shit, don’t blame me.”
“Oh, I’ll exclusively be blaming you. Hurry up now.”
---
“Alright,” she murmured, ensconced in the armchair at the desk housing her small computer network. “Yes, okay, this is definitely a local spot. The map points to this warehouse, here.” She pulled it up on a secondary monitor, highlighting the specific building. “Let me just—”
“Thanks.” Arthur was already turning to leave.
“Oh settle the fuck down, Sparky. Let’s see if he’s even in there before you go running off.” Arthur paused, waiting. Emily’s hands flew over her keyboard, systematically pulling up the street camera security footage. “This is definitely the van that took him pulling into the parking garage.”
“You saw that?”
“Had a stupidly great view of it through my window. He looked absolutely livid,” she replied. “Let me work on getting into the warehouse security cameras.”
“Don’t,” the blond warned. “Their system will notice and I’d rather they not know I’m coming.”
“Or where you’re going?” she counte
red hotly. “Or even if he’s alright?”
Arthur snarled. “Don’t you for a moment imply that I don’t care about him.”
The blonde woman snorted, decidedly unimpressed, and rolled her eyes heavenward. “Oh, S just would find himself a hot headed pretty boy with a hero complex. I’m never leaving him alone again.” She pushed back from the desk, shoved her equipment into her computer bag, turning to face him. “Alright, here’s my proposal. Instead of you rushing in blind like a fucking idiot, guns blazing and getting both of you killed, I’m coming with you. I’ll hack the cameras on site from a safe distance away and try to keep whatever the fuck that security system is made of busy for a bit. If you move a bit faster this time, you can go in with that much working in your favor.”
“You think you can hack through their firewalls when the demonstration computer knocked you flat on your ass in under ten minutes?”
She grinned. “Yup, because penetrative attacks are much, much easier. Honestly, has Syler never explained this to you or did it all fly over your lovely head, Arm Candy? I just need to pinpoint where he is, match it to the blueprints I’ve already downloaded, and send you off. So,” she swung her bag up onto her shoulder, “let’s go!”
“Yeah, alright.” He passed her an ear piece, gesturing for her to put it in. “I’m driving.”
“Of course you are.”
---
“Hello there.” Syler was unceremoniously dumped in a chair and reintroduced to the land of light, the bag torn carelessly off his head forcing him to squint under the glare of the overhead fluorescent bulbs. “Pleasure to finally meet you.”
Once the spots stopped dancing in front of his eyes, he was greeted with the sight of a stocky man near his age sporting overly long brown hair that curled at the nape of his neck where it was slicked back with entirely too much hair gel. The man was shorter than Syler and dressed down to a convention worthy degree. Where his hired hit men were all black holsters and menace, he had opted for the casual hoodie and jeans look that served as uniform to computer techs the world over. “I take it you go by Jonathan Byron?”
Covert Affairs: Partnership : A Covert Affairs Romance (Book One) Page 17
