MindWar (Nick Hall Book 3)

by Douglas E. Richards

  “I thought you might approve,” said the president. “Here’s the thing. You’re one of the few people who have been at this from the beginning. Really a pioneer. Which is why we recruited you to Nick’s team.”

  He paused. “General Girdler would love to keep you where you are. But I just had a conversation with him, and he realizes this would be selfish if it would keep you from making vital contributions to such a massive global consortium.”

  “Are you saying you’d like me to leave THT so I can devote all of my efforts to this new project?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying at all,” replied Cochran with a grin. “I’m saying I’d like you to leave THT to lead this program. The whole ball of wax. Like James Watson led the Human Genome Project before you.”

  Sargent just blinked stupidly, unable to respond.

  “Is that a yes?” asked Cochran in amusement.

  “Yes!” said Sargent emphatically. He loved Nick Hall and his entire team. They had become a family. But this was an opportunity he couldn’t possibly pass up.

  “Fantastic,” said the president. “And I assume you’d be willing to take a call from Nick going forward if something came up in your area of expertise.”

  “Of course,” said Sargent immediately. “I’d do anything for this team.”

  Sargent thought he saw the president wince at this last, but he must have imagined it.

  “Great,” said Cochran. “It’s settled. I know this is something of a whirlwind, but I need you to get to Washington as soon as possible. Sorry about the short notice, but I want to meet with you in person later tonight at the White House. After that, you’ll have lots of preparations to make, lots of people to meet, and lots of members of Congress to impress. I assumed you’d be interested,” said Cochran, “so I took the liberty of booking a flight that leaves out of SLC International in three hours. First class.” He glanced down as though reading something. “United 289, landing at Dulles.”

  “I’ll be on it,” said a still-stunned Dennis Sargent. A whirlwind was an understatement. This was more like a hurricane.

  “There is something I need for you to do for me before you leave there,” said Cochran. He hesitated, not looking entirely comfortable. “It’s a bit delicate.”

  “Sir?” said Sargent.

  “As you know, Nick and Alex have the Kelvin Gray data bottled up pretty tightly. You also know that I recently approved Nick’s request to let his team study it inside headquarters—with the proper precautions, of course.”

  “Of course,” echoed Sargent.

  “For some time now I’ve been wanting to make another copy of the data and secure it at another location. With the data all in one basket, we risk the possibility of losing it forever, including the BrainWeb specs. Why take this chance? While the tech may not be ready for prime time right now, its loss would be devastating. A real setback for humanity. I’ve proposed keeping a second copy under lock and key at Fort Knox, for example, but Nick and I have a bit of a disagreement about this.”

  “I’m not surprised,” said Sargent. “I think if he had his way he’d destroy the one copy we do have.”

  “Hard to blame him,” said Cochran. “He knows how dangerous it would be if it fell into the wrong hands. But despite Nick’s objections, I’ve become more and more convinced this is something that has to be done.”

  The president locked his virtual eyes onto Sargent’s. “You were chosen to lead what we’re planning to call the Artificial Brain Initiative a few weeks ago, Dr. Sargent. But there’s a reason I waited until today to tell you. An opportunistic reason. I realized that since you’d be leaving the group for greener pastures, you could bring me a copy of the data. Since this is the day Nick is out of the office, I waited until now to tell you, and to bring you to DC. This way, he’ll never need to know it happened.”

  Sargent frowned. This didn’t smell right. “I don’t understand, sir,” he said. “You’re the president. Couldn’t you just order him to give you a copy?”

  Cochran tilted his head and a tired smile crossed his face. “You might think,” he admitted. “But Nick is very important to the country. Much more important than I am, to be honest. I’m not sure he’d do it. Who knows, he might even decide to finally destroy the one copy we have left. You know how parano—cautious—he is. And not without good reason,” Cochran hastened to add once again.

  “You’re the commander-in-chief. I get that Nick’s a civilian, so maybe you couldn’t give him a direct order. But couldn’t you order General Girdler to get you your copy?”

  Cochran shook his head. “The general will do what he thinks is right, and he’s more loyal to Nick than to me. I’d be more loyal to Nick, also, if I were in his shoes. Again, I can’t blame him. So doing this without them knowing really is the best solution.”

  “And you don’t plan to do anything with it other than lock it away in Fort Knox?”

  “That’s right,” said Cochran without hesitation.

  Sargent considered. There was no doubt he could do what the president wanted. Easily. The files, thousands of pages, could be copied to a data stick in an instant. And the trust they all shared within the group was absolute. There was almost nothing he could do that would arouse the slightest of suspicions. And Cochran had been smart. He had given him a tight window to get to the airport when almost everyone he knew within THT was either off-site or in a meeting.

  But he had promised Nick Hall he would maintain security, and Hall had no doubt read his mind to confirm this was true. He thought the world of Hall. This would be an unforgivable betrayal. Cochran must realize that if Sargent did this he could never get within six miles of the mind reader again.

  “Just out of curiosity, Mr. President,” he said as pleasantly as possible, “what if I respectfully declined? Out of loyalty to Nick? Would that jeopardize my position in this new initiative?”

  “Of course not,” said Cochran, as though offended at the very thought. “You’re the right man for the job. That was decided weeks ago. This is just a data safekeeping measure. Chances are the data is perfectly safe within THT. But I’d sleep better knowing we had a copy squirreled away. As a scientist, I’d urge you to think about how you’d feel if this data—which, tragically, Kelvin Gray took many lives to acquire—was lost forever. And I would consider it a big favor.”

  The president spread his hands out toward Sargent, palms up. “But it’s entirely your choice. You’ll have to keep this secret from people you like and admire.” He sighed. “I know that’s asking a lot.”

  Sargent stared long and hard at the virtual Timothy Cochran in his office, weighing his decision. Finally, he nodded. “I think the idea of safeguarding the data does make sense,” he said. “I’m glad I’ll be able to help.”

  “Me too,” said Cochran. He seemed pleased, but not overly so. As though it would allow him to cross off a fairly minor item on his to-do list. “I look forward to meeting you in person later tonight.”

  “Thank you, sir. And thank you for having the vision to embark on this Artificial Brain Initiative. Not to mention giving me such a wonderful opportunity,” he added, beaming. “I’ll make sure that you never regret either choice.”

  “I’m sure that I won’t,” said the president with a warm smile.

  40

  President Timothy Cochran blew out a relieved breath as the connection with Dennis Sargent ended. Wow. That was dicey. When Sargent had asked him what the consequences of refusing to help would be, he could have gone in one of two directions. He had chosen the softer of the two approaches in an instant, going with his spur-of-the-moment gut feeling, but this could well have backfired.

  The Artificial Brain Initiative was real, but until two weeks earlier it had been one of six such moonshots under consideration. Cochran had seized upon the opportunity to declare it the winner so he could use it an excuse to get Sargent to leave THT headquarters with the data he needed.

  The good Dr. Sargent hadn’t been on the short
list to lead the massive effort, but he was well qualified, so the president had no problem putting him in charge. The woman who had been at the top of the list would be made second-in-command, never knowing that she had been moved aside so the president could achieve another goal.

  “Congratulations,” said Bob Siegel, who had been in his office but out of sight, observing the call. “I see that your political skills are as sharp as ever.”

  “You mean my ability to lie convincingly?”

  “You know what they say,” replied Siegel. “Sincerity—if you can fake that, you’ve got it made.”

  “I did what I had to do,” said Cochran unhappily. “You know the stakes here. And speaking of that, we don’t have any time to waste. I have no reason to doubt that Dennis Sargent will come through, so set up a meeting with our man Bostic for tonight. I’ll leave it to you to give him the initial briefing. Tomorrow, I’ll spend some quality time with him. I want to get to know him and give him my perspective on things.”

  “And the other three men?”

  “We can bring them up to speed in the coming days. But we need to get going with Bostic immediately. We have to brief him and then send him off to get implants and, with any luck, ESP. We’ve thought recreating the pathway the implants took through Hall’s brain would recreate the effect for a while now, but maybe not. If it doesn’t, we need to know it now, so we can at least consider other options. If it does, we need Bostic to get used to his new powers in a hurry. The sooner we can deploy him to Iran, the better our chances.”

  The four men who would form their so-called SEAL Team Six-and-a-half had been selected days earlier, and had been transferred to Annapolis, one hour away, to await further instructions. All four had been instructed to begin growing beards, which gave them a sense of what might be in store for them, but they were given no further information. This included the chosen one, Lieutenant Craig Bostic, who was slated to become a mind reader and the most formidable man on Earth.

  “I’ll get the ball rolling on this tonight then,” said Siegel. “I just hope we know what we’re doing,” he added uncertainly.

  “You and me both,” said the leader of the free world. “You and me both.”

  41

  The moment the president’s call with Dennis Sargent ended, Troy Browning contacted his favorite tech merchant, feeling absolutely euphoric. Cochran had succeeded in luring the data out of headquarters. Part of him had been worried that he might fail, but this worry was irrational, he realized, not for the first time.

  Of course Cochran hadn’t failed. The president’s success in this matter was inevitable, guided by higher powers. Browning’s destiny would not be denied.

  He already possessed the implants he needed, but now he was so close to becoming a mind reader he could taste it. “Sargent agreed to smuggle out the data,” he reported to Victor. “And the president’s having him proceed exactly as you predicted,” he added. “Tell your men to be ready to execute option one.”

  He went on to specify the details of Sargent’s imminent flight out of Salt Lake City International.

  Their lives had been complicated when the president had discussed his precise plans with Bob Siegel in his office, in person, rather than over his secure video link. But even though they weren’t sure how the president would proceed once Sargent agreed to help him, at least they knew the exact date this would happen—when Hall next went to Hill Air Force Base to conduct his interrogations.

  So Victor had been forced to plan for a number of possibilities, which he did with astonishing skill and thoroughness. Browning had chosen well, even though the method they would end up using was so simple Browning himself could have managed it.

  Maybe.

  But they hadn’t known it would be so simple, so Victor had prepared for bear. Some of his plans were brilliant in their daring and complexity, and his ability to think like his opponent was truly special.

  And it had turned out that his reasoning was spot on. The man was an amazing talent.

  Nessie handled security in the Salt Lake City region for any personnel who ventured outside of THT headquarters. The president himself couldn’t change her programming in this regard, not without her reporting the change to Girdler and THT. So she would report on anything she found suspicious, regardless of the president’s involvement.

  Even so, Browning had been convinced that Cochran would supply all kinds of additional protection for Sargent as he smuggled out the president’s priceless cargo. Or would use an intermediary to accept the handoff soon after Sargent had left the building.

  Victor thought otherwise. He reasoned that Cochran wouldn’t want to have Sargent do anything out of the ordinary. He would need to fool Nessie along with everyone else. So he would have him fly the data out of Utah on his own with no added security, at least until he left the purview of Nessie and her ever watchful eyes and algorithms.

  The core team lived inside headquarters, but others who worked there, who kept the wheels of the secret organization turning, even though they had no idea what the organization really did, left hundreds of times throughout the year to return to their homes and apartments. Nessie had been put in charge of these lesser personnel for a reason, because maintaining anonymity was their greatest protection.

  If all personnel were smothered by bodyguards or driven around in tanks, like Hall, this would draw attention, raise red flags. In a high crime area, leaving your door wide open was one indication you had nothing worth stealing. The more fuss you made about protecting your belongings, the more thieves you would attract.

  Nessie was the ultimate in invisible security. No one could possibly know that whenever Dennis Sargent moved around the Salt Lake City area, thousands and thousands of eyes moved with him, and an enormous brain made sure no one was following and nothing unusual was happening.

  Which was why Victor guessed Cochran would have his mole fly out of Salt Lake City the same way he had done previously on several occasions.

  Nothing to see here, Nessie. Just an ordinary guy, going about ordinary business. Certainly not engaged in smuggling out a priceless data stick.

  And Victor had been right in every regard. Perhaps it took a smuggler to think like a smuggler. But regardless, the more Browning worked with the man, the more impressed he became.

  And the more concerned.

  This was not a man with whom he wanted to share the instructions for implants and ESP. Browning needed absolute control of the situation. He alone needed to make decisions about the rollout of implants and mind reading. A random factor in the equation, like Victor—someone with extraordinary competence, immense resources, and unknowable motives—could well throw a wrench into the works.

  But it was too late to do anything about Victor just yet. He had needed him for this operation. Even though the execution would turn out to be easier than Browning had guessed, it was still not without its challenges.

  So he would work with Victor for today. They would break bread and share data.

  But he was confident he’d find a way to bottle him up before too long.

  After all, Troy Browning’s destiny could not be denied.

  42

  Chuck Hafer strolled casually through the busy airport and into a tiny kiosk, a small carry-on bag slung around his shoulder. He removed an overpriced plastic bottle of water from a refrigerated shelf and stood in a three person line at the small cashier’s station.

  He looked down as a secure text came in. It was from Victor, as expected. You’re a go to proceed. He’ll be flying United 289 to Dulles, boarding at 1:30, Terminal One.

  Proceeding as planned, he typed back, just as he reached the cashier. He smiled pleasantly and paid her in cash.

  Victor’s guess had been exactly right. Hafer supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. He had only just begun working with the man, but it was already clear that his reputation was well deserved. Victor had instructed him to set up six teams around Salt Lake City, each with their own game plan should
the ball carrier veer in their direction. But Victor had insisted that Hafer run the show at SLC International, personally, convinced that this was where the play would lead.

  Not only had he been correct, he had even predicted the airline. The man was uncanny.

  Hafer couldn’t have been happier when Victor had reached out to recruit him. Men in his line of work all jumped at any chance to be part of Victor’s team. The tech dealer was scrupulously fair, never screwed anyone over, and paid handsomely. The men on all six teams would be well compensated, but if Hafer was successful he would earn a million dollars for himself, and each of the seven men on his airport team two-hundred thousand.

  Whatever was on that disk, Victor wanted it bad.

  Chuck Hafer had been briefed at length on a computer named Nessie, which Victor insisted would be watching over Dennis Sargent like the overprotective mother of a toddler. A very savvy overprotective mother.

  Which is the very reason Victor required Hafer’s services. Neither Victor, his unnamed partner in this endeavor, nor anyone from his usual team could be anywhere near Salt Lake City. Apparently, if Nessie got a single sniff of any of them in this region, the game would be up. She would know immediately that their presence here, of all places, could not be random.

  Hafer forwarded Victor’s text to all seven of his team. The entire team, Hafer included, would purchase tickets on flights leaving from Terminal One, all on different airlines at different times, going to different destinations. In this way they would pass through security without any questions being asked and with no way to connect them together, and they would all have reason to loiter inside the terminal until they were needed to perform their choreographed roles. Each would later actually board and take these ticketed flights, as well, so as not to arouse the suspicions of a paranoid AI.