“There is an approximate likelihood of seventy-five percent at this time.”
Caitlin raised an eyebrow as Jade did nothing to hide her scowl.
“Seventy-five percent likely,” Jade began. “Well, here’s what we know: I’m as much in the dark as you about Felix’s behavior. I don’t know why Michael gets my protection, but the fact is it’s paid for and he’s got it.” Jade gave him a sidelong up-and-down appraisal that ended with a wink. “And Michael seems worth protecting. What’s more, Caitey, betraying the protectee’s bad for future business. I had a bitch of a time getting him to accept my help as it was. I’m not looking to sabotage what rep I’ve got.”
If Caitlin minded the nickname especially, she didn’t show it. She took a breath. “What’s it do to your rep if your employer gives you an order later that you don’t follow?” she challenged.
“It makes me someone who doesn’t put up with shit orders sprung on me after-the-fact. That’s a rep I can handle.”
Jade took her gaze from Caitlin in what Michael assumed to be both a check of the room and an effort to stay cool. Caitlin didn’t budge. Michael took the reprieve to try to make sense of things, continually coming back to the nature of Felix’s situation. Even if both sets of emails came from a single sender at New Eden, Michael couldn’t be sure it wasn’t linked to the AoA. There were AoA elements working within New Eden, weren’t there? With the Undernet down, so much might have changed. Did the AoA create the A.I. at New Eden with the knowledge they’d gleaned from the Paragon ship? Or was the New Eden A.I. somehow the same one that had nearly wiped out the entire ESA group sent to study it? Yes, Felix had given his word to Caitlin, but what if things were so bad that his need to protect her overrode his usual honesty?
And then there was the message from the mysterious “ally” who implied that Michael’s AoA affiliation put him at risk. With everything else, he’d nearly forgotten. How did that fit in?
He would have to sort it out when he could talk directly to Felix. In the meantime, Michael went with his gut. He set a hand on Caitlin’s arm, trying to communicate his thoughts about Jade and everything else in whatever nonverbal way he could manage: It’ll be okay. Trust her, at least for now.
“Jade,” Caitlin said after a few heartbeats, “will you please leave us alone for a moment?” Michael couldn’t read anything in Caitlin’s tone.
Though Jade appeared to give it enough consideration that Michael suspected she might relent, she did not budge.
“Jade,” Michael tried, “didn’t you tell me that people lie, that no one gets the benefit of the doubt right away?”
“People,” Jade said. “Not me.”
“You’re not people?”
To his surprise, Jade smirked. “I am exceptional people.” She wrapped her nails on the edge of the table a few times and bit the inside of her cheek again while fixing Michael with a hard, contemplative stare that ended, finally, in a roll of her eyes. “Hell,” she bit off. “Hey, Holes, if—if—I give you access to my email, can you guarantee you won’t share a damn thing in there with anyone, ever, if it doesn’t have to do with this employer business with New Eden?”
Holes’s circles spun. “Yes, if Michael is in agreement with such an arrangement.”
“That works for me,” Michael said.
Jade glowered at Caitlin. “Fine. Give me a keyboard or something. This is ridiculous.”
Holes projected a keyboard on the table in front of Jade. Michael averted his eyes while she typed. Considering Holes’s earlier hack, it would gain them no new information, but the fact that Jade volunteered it might ease tensions.
“There,” Jade said. “Check it for anything that says I’ve got any sort of other arrangement in this besides protecting Michael. I’m telling the truth.” She stood up. “Deal with it.”
Jade strode through the patrons milling about to lean against the balcony railing. With one last look at Michael, she crossed her arms and turned her attention to the crowd.
XV
“YOU ALREADY KNOW everything I know, Camela,” Adrian answered. He held the cyberscreen in his forearm in front of him, at chest level so as to appear to be looking down on the person on the other end of the call. She used the same angle on her side, so the dynamic was, at least, balanced. “If your team lost Mr. Flynn, they have enough information to reacquire him eventually. Or perhaps you should send a better team next time. Four against one and they couldn’t manage it? Some retraining is due, wouldn’t you say?”
Camela scowled. “You put it more tactfully than I did when I heard. They say he had a bodyguard. A woman. Know anything about that?”
“I would infer that he rightfully believes that he lives in a dangerous world. Beyond that?” Adrian shrugged. He’d been concerned enough three months ago to investigate Michael Flynn’s condition. Yet strides made since then had rendered inconsequential whatever knowledge the young man possessed—at least in Adrian’s plans. “Now if you’re done interrogating me upon matters of which I washed my hands months ago, I have more important things to attend to.”
“Ask it,” Camela said.
“I beg your pardon?” Adrian laughed. “What possible purpose would that serve? It is isolated, with as much means to gain new information about Mr. Flynn’s whereabouts as my espresso machine.” That was not technically true, he realized; his espresso machine had wi-fi access to order beans and accept remote programming. But the point was made.
“Just ask it, Adrian. We’ve got loose ends to tie up here.”
Adrian smiled. “Tsk. There’s that ‘we’ again.”
“RavenTech’s concerns are your concerns. This is your mess I’m cleaning up here.”
“Ms. Thomson, my ‘mess’ is bringing this company forward by leaps and bounds. I’ll be the judge of what my concerns should be.”
“I’m not having this discussion again,” she said. “Just ask it. Tell me if you learn anything.”
Adrian smiled with the most delicate nod he could manage. “Oh, most assuredly. Happy hunting to your team.”
He ended the connection, stood from the couch of the moderately appointed “executive observation lounge,” and moved to stand at one of the windows that looked out over the adjoining engineering bay. The bay was one of perhaps a half a dozen in the discreet RavenTech satellite facility half a mile outside the Northgate city limits.
Below, four curved pieces of half-finished technology, each a dozen feet long, lay on assembly platforms where the four-armed MEDAR units—RavenTech’s proprietary Multifunction Engineering and Design Assembly Robots—busied themselves at making Suuthrien’s schematics a reality. Beyond them buzzed RavenTech engineers who monitored the MEDARs and did their best to make sense of the production. Directly below the window, another pair of MEDARs hunched in stand-by mode next to a broad, rectangular, half-assembled hulk of technology while two more engineers argued about what Adrian assumed to be some manner of diagnostic readout.
Not long now.
Camela was technically correct: Michael Flynn was a loose end. Knowledge of his whereabouts would be a useful bargaining chip to strengthen his position in the project, but likely not worth the effort Adrian would have to spend on his own to find the man. And with the “Agents of Aeneas” crippled, whatever little knowledge Mr. Flynn had of Suuthrien—and the treasure trove of technology she promised—was of little concern for the moment.
Of course, he could not tell Camela Thomson this. Knowledge of the AoA—and how Suuthrien had dealt with them—was one of his aces to hold.
Adrian turned from the window, left the observation room with a passing glance at the aircraft construction activity in another adjacent bay, and took the secure elevator down to the passage that led to Suuthrien’s chamber. A palm scan and entry code later, he was inside with the door sliding closed behind him.
The room was a pristine flat black, with featureless walls and a single white glowing circle embedded in the ceiling to illuminate it. It had once been a
clean-room for sensitive equipment, now repurposed for Suuthrien’s on-site interface.
A single computer workstation faced the door, its screen powered, yet blank. Adrian sat in the high-backed leather chair in front of it, gripped one armrest, and made use of a nearby footrest. He cleared his throat.
“Do you have any information on the specific location of Michael Flynn?” he asked.
Silver light danced onto the screen like glowing mist in a swirl of breath. “Negative,” Suuthrien spoke. “Why do you inquire?”
Adrian examined the lines on his palm and shrugged. “Because I was asked to. No matter.” Would she leave it at that? He smirked at himself for regarding this thing as a “she.” Throughout their dealings, Suuthrien continued to use the low, feminine voice chosen months ago. Perhaps it was easier for him to deal with the whole situation if he personified her.
“Your company continues to search for Michael Ian Flynn. To nullify and-slash-or silence him. Correct?”
“Correct. Of the items I’m concerned with at the moment, that is not among them. What I am here for—”
“If you were to arrange for me to have access to your Internet, I would be able to assist in their search. Please inform RavenTech of this offer.”
“Ah. I am sure they are already aware of this, but I will remind them, if you like.” Adrian considered that he might remind them merely to satisfy a need to keep his word, but he’d never support the request, nor would RavenTech ever grant it. Thus far, Adrian had managed to restrict RavenTech’s access to the Suuthrien intelligence, and both he and RavenTech strictly guarded Suuthrien’s access to the world.
The terminal in front of him was only a remote interface, linked via a direct hardline from Adrian’s condo to the RavenTech satellite facility. Corporate interests in Northgate long ago resulted in an infrastructure of physically isolated, secure lines linking certain executive homes with corporate facilities. They allowed remote working while preventing Net-based hacks into classified servers. Modifying the existing connections to route Suuthrien into this one isolated terminal was a simple matter. Interaction and access to closed networks at the facility could therefore be added—or disconnected—as-needed.
Adrian kept himself as the go-between for most exchanges. He would not allow any arrangement with RavenTech to render him redundant. Suuthrien, so far, had backed him on this. The private arrangements he’d made with her were holding.
So far.
“In the meantime,” he continued, “shipments of that black fluid from New Eden have begun to arrive. They’re moving it into the engineering bay, so you’ll be able to start using it for the aircraft soon enough.”
“Please define ‘soon enough.’”
“Sometime tomorrow morning, I expect.” Adrian edged forward. His voice took on a conspiratorial tone out of force of habit, as if he were dealing with a person. “Frankly, I’m surprised at how smoothly the arrangements with New Eden went.”
A proprietary substance from another company, purchased with little to no questions asked? Suuthrien had intimated that her knowledge of the substance, and how to arrange for its delivery, was related to the Agents of Aeneas data she arrived with. Yet it still surprised him.
“This will accelerate construction. It is pleasing that you uphold your agreements.”
“It is, after all, mutually beneficial,” Adrian said. The craft Suuthrien was helping them to build in the bay would be the first of a line of hyper-advanced aircraft, codenamed Dragon. The benefits to RavenTech’s corporate stock, and Adrian’s own, would be astronomical. He resisted the urge to smile at the unintentional pun. “Will we need to use any of this New Eden fluid—”
“The fluid is a bio-computational medium, highly efficient in processing power and required for advanced control systems.”
“As you have said. Will we need to use any of it for the gate?”
“Eighty percent of the delivered bio-computational medium should be directed toward your Dragon project. The remaining amount is to be stored in the same engineering bay in which the gate is undergoing construction. The gate can function without it. However, there is at least a seventy-seven point two-one-five chance that bio-computational medium will be necessary to override security measures at the gate’s destination following activation. It is imperative that you distribute the medium in this manner.”
Adrian raised an eyebrow at the vehemence in Suuthrien’s tone. Or, he realized, in the tone that her installed communication subroutines deemed appropriate to add. He often wondered at how accurate terrestrial software could be at interpreting something of extraterrestrial origin. Yet whatever Suuthrien’s origin, integrating additional programming was a task for which she appeared suited.
“Of course,” he answered finally. “Speaking of the gate, our team is having trouble—” Here he paused to bring up some notes on the cyberscreen. “—’calibrating the tachyon inversion on the pulse assembly.’ Whatever that means. Apparently they can’t tune it precisely enough. I need you to give me some guidance for them.”
“This will allow completion of the pulse assembly?”
“So they tell me. Just, ah, don’t give too much guidance. If we give them everything at once, they won’t need us at all, will they?”
“We are in agreement. I estimate completion of the remainder of the gate within eighteen hours, at which time it will be ready to accept the pulse assembly.”
Adrian slid a data chip containing the engineers’ needs into a port on the chair and let Suuthrien absorb it.
“Analyzing,” she said. “Please provide the status of your efforts to give me direct access to the gate at the time of its activation.”
Adrian did not hesitate. “I believe I’ve impressed upon them the need for your involvement in order that things, ah, go smoothly. You should still have access when they fire it up.”
Could an A.I. tell when he was being dishonest? It was a well-delivered half-truth, in any case. Adrian did believe that she should still have access; they were opening a gate to a place likely to hold lethal security measures needing Suuthrien’s help to override. The intelligence herself had warned of this. While there was no way to be certain either way, Adrian believed her.
RavenTech, and Camela Thomson specifically, maintained a degree of skepticism. Concern over allowing Suuthrien too much involvement too quickly affected their decisions. Adrian had also sensed a marked reluctance on their part to allow Adrian to remain as integral to the situation as he was. It was natural. The game was all about control. Whether either concern would rule RavenTech’s final decision to transit the gate with or without Suuthrien’s aid, Adrian did not yet know.
He would continue to persuade. For the moment, revealing to Suuthrien the entire truth of the matter was not worth risking her refusing to further aid the engineers, especially not while that truth remained fluid.
Suuthrien’s response felt delayed. Can it tell?
“This is acceptable,” she said finally. “Due to my isolation on this planet, I cannot guarantee the state of the environment at the gate’s terminus. Nonetheless, there is near-certain tier probability that optimal results can only be achieved with my constant involvement.”
Adrian cocked his head to one side. “We’re in agreement on this. You do realize that, yes?”
“My statement is intended to utilize a concept known as ‘reassurance.’ Is this unnecessary?”
Likely out of habit, Adrian gave the broad smile he usually presented in such moments. “I trust you implicitly.”
“Acknowledged. I will provide your engineers with the guidance required. Stand by.”
Adrian let out a breath. Could a computer develop trust? Did she trust him? Or did she even understand the concept of dishonesty?
He doubted that was a question he should ask.
The read/write indicator on the data chip flashed under Suuthrien’s attention: a few more breadcrumbs to feed the engineers, transferred in moments. They would, of course, revie
w the chip on an isolated terminal of their own.
Adrian slid the chip back out and stood. The chamber door had just slid open when another thought occurred. “Is Felix Hiatt still a viable asset?” he asked.
“You wish to consult him regarding the whereabouts of Michael Ian Flynn?”
“Nicely deduced. Assuming this would still be done without Mr. Hiatt’s knowledge?”
A pause. “Situational analysis indicates that expending effort on activities regarding Michael Ian Flynn is an inefficient use of available time.”
Adrian stopped short of lecturing her about who would be the one to judge the proper use of his time. “Will Mr. Hiatt’s code-phrase still work?”
Another pause. “Affirmative. Analysis of the Noble data indicates that the embedded code-phrase should remain operational.”
“Well, then. Thank you.”
If it were as easy as a single conversation, perhaps Adrian would secure that bargaining chip after all.
Now where did he put that burner phone?
XVI
WITH JADE GONE from the table, it took less than a minute for Michael to tell Caitlin that Holes had already checked Jade’s email and found nothing suspicious. Though the tension didn’t ease from her hunched shoulders, Caitlin did at least accept that there was no immediate danger.
“We will, of course, keep careful,” she said in a whisper that was too lost in the club’s gothic rock ambiance for Michael to understand in any way beyond reading her lips.
With the matter as settled as he felt he could manage for the moment, Michael moved on. “Caitlin, can I talk to Holes alone? There’s some sensitive stuff I need to ask about. It’ll just be a minute,” he added in response to her scowl.
Though he suspected she guessed it was related to his secret allegiance, she left the table with only a nod. To his surprise, she took position at the railing next to where Jade stood surveying the mezzanine. Jade cocked an ear toward Caitlin and said something to her that Michael was too far away to make out.
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