Chris and Masha nodded affirmative.
“Okay let’s move.” Yaw watched as Chris sprinted across the sidewalk and disappeared around the side of the building. He nodded to Masha before he made for the entrance.
The building, built in 1929, had a pair of large oak doors at least 50 years old that made up the entrance. During their initial reconnaissance, it had been discovered that the lock was broken, and Yaw carefully turned the brass knob and opened the door. He did a check to make sure all was clear before he signaled Masha to follow him inside.
Yaw and Masha did a quick scan of the first floor. In the darkness, shapes were clear: A dust covered reception desk, corner office entrances, along with a short hallway leading to a single elevator bank, and behind the elevator bank a stairwell. Yaw led as they padded silently around the reception desk, past the elevator, and into the stairwell.
Once inside the stairwell, the two sprinted up the stairs, two at a time, quick and silent. At the third floor, Yaw carefully approached the door that led to the large empty space where the refugees were being held. He signaled Masha to stand behind him. He carefully opened the door an inch and peered inside.
The man with the AR-15 stood looking over the eleven Chinese refugees. He held the rifle low, and his back was toward Yaw. The distance between Yaw and the man with the rifle was less than twenty feet. Yaw knew he could cover that distance before the man could react, let alone turn around.
Yaw took a deep breath and bolted from behind the door.
The man barely had time to turn his head before Yaw cracked him in the jaw with a Kali stick, knocking him out cold.
The man instantly crumpled to the concrete, the AR-15 clattering to the floor beside him.
Yaw picked up the rifle, removed the clip and bullet from the chamber before sliding the weapon across the floor.
He immediately turned his attention to the refugees. All eyes were on him, and all eyes were frightened.
That’s when Masha quietly spoke. “Come with us. You are safe now.” Her voice was gentle and soothing, filled with the emotion of experience.
Masha had had her own experiences with oppression, and it came out in her voice. It transcended the language disparity. Yaw was happy he had Masha on this mission.
“Back stairwell is clear,” Chris said as he entered the room.
Masha already had the refugees on their feet.
“Let’s meet Joey in the back alley,” Yaw replied.
Yaw and Masha led the group of seven women and four men with Chris trailing behind. They navigated the switchbacks of the stairwell in serpentine fashion, and Yaw quickly led them out.
A bright spotlight abruptly illuminated the alley, stopping them in their tracks.
A Lenco Ballistic Engineered Armored Response Counter Attack Truck, more commonly known as a BearCat was parked at the entrance, the letters SWAT emblazoned in yellow along the thick metal frame of the military vehicle.
On top of the vehicle was the spotlight, along with a fifty caliber cannon. A SWAT officer, dressed in black storm trooper fatigues and armor, manned the gun.
Twenty other similarly-attired officers stood in attack formation, all training AR-15s and other high tech rifles at Yaw, Chris, Masha, and the eleven refugees.
“Put your hands up,” a male voice blasted across a loud speaker.
Yaw did as he was told. He noticed that Joey Nugyen was face down on the ground next to the panel truck, his hands zip-tied behind his back.
“You are all under arrest,” the bullhorn continued, “for transporting illegal immigrants for the purpose of terrorist activities on American soil.”
Those were the last words Yaw heard before an officer struck him on the head with the butt of his rifle and everything went black.
Part II
ALL THINGS ARE CONNECTED
15
Retaliation Planning
Rika Muranaka looked at the series of CCTV security videos yet again, stunned at what she saw happening.
She had listened to the eyewitness report shown on cable news—bystanders watching in disbelief as two driverless vehicles, a Tesla electric car and a Cadillac Escalade equipped with a state-of-the-art autopilot function, made their way through the city of Los Angeles, meticulously winding down the streets and obeying traffic laws until coming upon the getaway vehicle of two wannabe 7-Eleven hold up men.
Then the Escalade and Tesla did what could only be described as a deliberate attack, incapacitating the getaway vehicle, a 2012 Toyota Camry, and seemingly notifying nearby patrol cars of the incident and location.
Muranaka noticed how the eyewitnesses seemed amused and entertained, unaware of what was really happening—that the first true A.I. incident in America had just happened, and it foreshadowed danger unlike anything this country had ever seen.
After hearing the eyewitness accounts, Muranaka immediately tapped into her own surveillance resources, and in no time had access to security camera footage from all over the city. She entered the aforementioned Tesla, Escalade, and Camry plate numbers into a search engine and managed to cross-reference the vehicle identifications with city-wide security camera footage in order to view the entire journey of both vehicles from the moment they self-initiated to the point of final impact with the Camry. Without even looking for evidence in the vehicle’s programming codes, Muranaka knew immediately that this was the work of Nikki Ellis and her renegade A.I. ghost roaming the deep net, PHOEBE.
Muranaka wondered if Ellis had any idea of the repercussions. The growing threat of PHOEBE to national security long ago stepped beyond hacking into information systems or eradicating personal privacy. It had even gone beyond creating micro-targeted alternative realities through social media. Of far greater concern to both the government and private sector was the unleashing of artificial intelligence ‘bots’ into the deep web where they could roam, untraceable, acting with a preprogrammed mandate to create havoc across the globe with little or no additional programming or continued human guidance.
These A.I. bots could shut down power grids, unlock alarm systems, crash markets, zero out financial assets, dump classified information onto open source platforms, launch conventional weaponry, or even start a nuclear war, all without hesitation, if some individual gave the bot that mandate, or an even worse possibility: a programming quirk within the bot itself created that mandate.
If these things were allowed to materialize, there was absolutely nothing any human being could do to stop it. A.I. bots literally could end the world as mankind knew it, and it could start by simply programming an A.I. system to stop crime across the city by any means necessary, such as what Muranaka speculated had happened here.
As Muranaka hacked into the security and surveillance systems, she took note that it appeared to be the 7-Eleven security camera that set things in motion. Not surprisingly, there was no silent alarm in the convenience store. The clerk had called 911 on her cell phone, and Muranaka speculated that perhaps it had prompted PHOEBE to act.
The scarier speculation to Muranaka was the possibility that PHOEBE was programmed to roam security systems and identify the gun and perhaps the hostile movements as an alert, which it would act upon in microseconds, tracing the movements of the Toyota Camry and sending the Tesla and Escalade to intercept simultaneously while notifying the police.
In many ways, Muranaka was impressed. The memory and computing power required to activate a search through hundreds of billions of digitized images and code to select this particular instance was mind-boggling. It must have been programmed to act in this manner or seek out this type of activity by Ellis herself. It was the only way it made sense.
This only increased Muranaka’s resolve about what must be done. Nikki Ellis must be found and PHOEBE destroyed before it was too late. But Muranaka was not naïve to her employer’s methods and politics. She knew going through Tom Miller, the head of cyber-security, would be an utter waste of time, with the urgency of the situation being lost in t
he politics, a delay designed for Miller to take credit for Muranaka’s discoveries.
Muranaka had witnessed Miller do this to others, both men and women, and she was not about to let it happen to her. She might be reprimanded and it could even cost Muranaka her job, but she needed to reach the decision makers. She needed to speak to Glen Turner, CEO of the company, directly before it was too late.
“He’ll see you now,” the pretty but robotic-mannered executive secretary said to Muranaka.
Coalition One in downtown Los Angeles had recently become a collection of buildings, dubbed the Coalition Fortress, with the company buying more and more real estate as its interests grew. The newly named Coalition One, the tallest building in the city, still remained at the center, while other buildings were being retrofit with the latest in high security technology, military-grade equipment that not even Muranaka was allowed to access. CEO Glen Turner’s office was on the top floor of Coalition One, and it had taken Muranaka several phone calls and emails to get this one-on-one meeting with the Coalition leader.
“This way,” the executive assistant said, before she wheeled about and started toward Turner’s office.
Muranaka got to her feet and straightened out her skirt suit before following. For the first time, she realized she was nervous.
The waiting area of the CEO’s office was large, almost cavernous, and filled with earth-tone furniture, including dark wood tables and bookshelves. The only out–of-place item was the Picasso on the wall. It has the look and feel of old money, Muranaka thought.
The executive assistant reached the large doors of CEO Turner’s office, knocked twice, smiled at Muranaka without saying another word, and walked away. The oak doors then opened, and Turner, whom Muranaka had never met, greeted her with his own smile.
“Ms. Muranaka. Please come in,” Turner said.
Muranaka entered Turner’s office. The sunlight coming in from the large windows caused her to blink. She walked over to the glass, which ran floor to ceiling. The view of Los Angeles was breathtaking.
“Tom Miller says you’re our top programmer, and we are honored to have you running our new Cyber Center,” Turner said as he waved for Muranaka to have a seat.
“Thank you,” Muranaka answered as she sat on the large leather couch.
“I’m surprised you didn’t go through him with this request. He’s head of the cyber-security division,” Turner said as he sat down across from Muranaka.
“Well, like I said in my emails, this is urgent. A matter of national security, I believe. I thought it best to speak to you directly.”
“We have an open door policy here at Coalition Properties. Please continue.”
“Do you know who Nicole Ellis is?”
“I’m familiar with the name,” Turner answered.
“Then you know she’s a high-level hacker. Nicole Ellis runs an A.I. program on the deep web that’s ghosting several highly encrypted security systems. We’ve been tracking it.”
“And?”
“We’ve been tracking PHOEBE’s every move in an attempt to gain access to it for some time now. And I believe we are getting close. But some unexpected things have been happening that I felt I should bring to your attention immediately. Things that I believe force us to devote more resources and accelerate our search for Nikki Ellis herself.”
“What things?”
“I have evidence that the program intervened in the robbery of a 7-Eleven. I also believe it was the source of the American Airlines shutdown two weeks ago. People have been reporting banking irregularities across the state. Everything from debts being wiped out to unauthorized wire transfers. We’re monitoring all of it, and I’m finding evidence that it is quite possible that Ms. Ellis’ program PHOEBE was involved in several of these incidences.”
“Do you think Ms. Ellis is programming her software to specifically carry out these actions?”
“Hard to tell. But my gut tells me that she’s not. At least not directly. It would be too time intensive. Ultimately, she’s responsible, but I think it’s potentially far worse than that. I think that the program is doing it all on its own.”
“And why do you think that?”
“When the program took a swing at us in the Cyber Center, I became suspicious. PHOEBE destroyed Black Widow, at least for the moment. I’m sure you’ve read the report.”
“I have. I’ve gotten the angry phone calls from the NSA, too.”
“Did they brief you on the potential threat?”
“The NSA is a cryptic bunch. Their craft and trade are secrets. But with what you’re telling me here, I assure you I’ll look into it now. What are your immediate concerns?”
“Well let me give you the quick and dirty assessment. If PHOEBE is starting to act out on its own, it could disrupt anything in the digital world, from defense systems to banking systems. It could shut down power grids. I don’t want to sound alarmist, but left unchecked, it could potentially end civilization as we know it. We have to stop PHOEBE before it’s too late. Before no one, not Coalition Properties, not even Nikki Ellis herself can stop it.”
Turner thought over Muranaka’s words. He obviously knew of Ellis and was aware of the dangers of her hacker skills. But what was new to him was the severity of the situation that Muranaka was claiming. He wondered how much of Alex Luthecker’s influence was behind this.
Turner swore to himself. He did not want to fall into this trap. He did not want to make finding Alex Luthecker a priority. He did not want to go down the rabbit hole of his predecessors. But it was beginning to appear that he would have no choice. He was going to have to hunt down Alex Luthecker and Nicole Ellis and kill them if necessary.
“So what are you recommending?” he finally asked.
“That you use Coalition Properties’ considerable resources beyond what we can do in the Cyber Center to find Nicole Ellis, and do whatever you have to in order to convince her to come in.”
Turner steepled his fingers in front of his face as he carefully considered Muranaka’s words. “Do you know who Alex Luthecker is?” Turner finally asked.
“I’ve heard of him. As I understand it, he’s some sort of cult figure. Rumored to be able to predict the future. Not something that I believe is mathematically possible. I know that the Coalition has had run-ins with him in the past, but much of that information is confidential,” Muranaka replied.
The fact of the matter was Muranaka knew exactly who Alex Luthecker was. It would be impossible to work for Coalition Properties and not know who the alleged soothsayer was and what he’d done to the firm. Muranaka would love to sit down with the infamous Alex Luthecker and test his abilities, if only to debunk them. But the thought of that was a luxury at the moment. The real threat was Nicole Ellis and PHOEBE.
“Thank you for bringing your concerns to my attention,” Turner said. “Nicole Ellis and Alex Luthecker are partners. They are also notorious outlaws, and I believe where we find one, we’ll find the other. And I agree, I think we’re going to have to dedicate adequate resources to bringing them both in. So you’ll have what you need on the cyber side of things, and I will put the resources in that are necessary to actually locate Ms. Ellis herself. We’ll convince her of the urgency of the situation. And when I have her in the facility, I’ll want your help in debriefing her.”
“If they’re outlaws, shouldn’t their apprehension be handled by or at least coordinated with law enforcement?”
“Of course. As you know, we work hand-in-hand with both law enforcement and Federal agencies all the time when it comes to concerns such as national security. And I assure you, when the time comes, your help on these real issues regarding national security will not go unnoticed, Ms. Muranaka. I’m really glad you chose to take the risk to come see me directly.”
Muranaka felt herself blush at his words, and she was furious with herself over it.
Turner stood up and offered Muranaka his hand. “I’m going to give you my private number, in case you have
any questions. I have a board meeting in half an hour, but I’ll be in contact.”
“I told you he’d be a problem,” Collin Smith, the longest tenured member of the Coalition Board said to Turner. “Do you think Richard Brown or James Howe were any less diligent in their efforts to deal with the Alex Luthecker problem? However, unlike you, they recognized the threat immediately. The threat that you are finally coming around to.”
“I recognize the threat. I’ve always recognized the threat. And the threat is fueled by the attention we give him.”
“So you thought ignoring him was a solution?”
“What’s your point?” Turner snapped back.
He wondered why the old man wouldn’t just die already, freeing up another seat on the board, a seat Turner could fill with someone less openly hostile to his own ambitions.
“The point is that we warned you,” Smith answered.
Turner looked over the members of the Coalition board of directors. They were all white and gray and balding with wealth on a scale the world had never seen before—and all possessed the power to match. The conference table cost more than most homes in the middle of the country. It baffled him that, despite all that these men had and controlled, they were still fearful, angry, and ultimately unhappy.
“I’ll admit, there is a danger to ignoring Luthecker, and I’ve never ignored him. But right now I think there’s a more immediate danger in ignoring his partner in crime, Nicole Ellis. Because of her threat, they both need to be found and eliminated. And, yes, I do differ with my predecessor’s assessment that Luthecker constitutes a threat or asset. I don’t see him as either. I think my predecessors misread the situation. I don’t believe Alex Luthecker or Nicole Ellis possess any ability or asset that Coalition Properties doesn’t already have.
“Gentlemen, we are the most powerful human organization that the world has ever seen. Two off-grid individuals may be an annoyance and create P.R. problems for us, but I don’t believe they can threaten that structure as a whole. There simply is too much momentum behind our efforts. Not to mention the global scope of our reach and sheer assets we have at our disposal. And the technology we are developing here will soon surpass any alleged abilities of either Luthecker to predict the future or Nicole Ellis to create rogue software.
Revolution: Luthecker, #3 Page 12
