“So since you already know what my mission is, you can pretty much say you know what I want, and I want you to know it. The words I say to you and my intentions that you can read are in sync. So tell me—how does my future play out?”
“If I told you, it would no longer be your future. You of all people understand that paradox.”
“Fine. Since we’re both in a bit of a bind right now, I’ll make a deal with you. When this is all over, and I’ve helped you resolve your conflict with my employers, you tell me every single thing you can about me.”
“I’ve already made that deal with you. Why are you really here?”
“You know why.”
Kirby motioned to Luthecker to come close.
Even though the audio pickups had been disabled, Kirby barely spoke above a whisper. “Look, I can’t let you out directly, because he’ll know I did it, and he’ll kill us both on sight. But we both know I won’t have to let you out, don’t we?
“What I can do is facilitate whatever it is you’re planning. I know that whatever your course of action may be, it is the right thing to do because my goal is singular and in alignment with yours. So what you want to happen is what I need to happen. So tell me what it is you need me to do, and I’ll do it—no questions asked. And when all this is over, you tell me what I need to know.”
Kirby sat back down across from Luthecker. “I bet you never saw that one coming,” he added. “Or maybe you did. Maybe you really are ten steps ahead. So what do you say?”
Luthecker locked eyes with Kirby for several moments before he spoke. “Here’s what I need you to do…”
30
Places Everyone
“Are you sure you can trust her?” Chris asked Nikki.
“I think she’s looking for answers just like the rest of us. And she’s our only shot right now. She wants to talk to Alex, and I trust him more than anyone in the world with someone who’s looking for answers. If she gets in front of him, he’ll know what to do. He’ll set her on the right path.”
“Knowing the truth about herself may tear her apart, like it has with every other person associated with the Coalition that’s gone face to face with Alex. What makes you think she’ll be any different? She may be looking for answers, but you barely know her. What makes you think she’ll actually get to Alex? What makes you think she won’t just turn us all in to the Coalition?” Yaw asked.
“PHOEBE,” Nikki answered. “I think PHOEBE knows that she’ll be different. PHOEBE put Rika Muranaka directly in front of me for a reason, and I believe that reason is to help us.”
“So, PHOEBE is the Alex of the Internet? Is that what you’re saying?” Yaw asked.
“I don’t know. But I’m not going to lose faith in either of them. Not now.”
“Well no matter what happens, it’s good to be together again with my ride-or-die crew,” Camilla chimed in. “I think back to the O.G. days and all the things we did, and the people that joined our cause. We were kinda crazy, but everything changed when Alex came on board. He brought us Nikki, then Joey, and now Masha. And he made us see who we really are. He changed all of us, and now we’re gonna get our boy, and this time, we’re gonna bring down the goddamn Coalition. And I for one, cannot wait to get this started,” Camilla said, spinning her Kali sticks for emphasis.
Nikki looked over her group of friends as they waited in the Terminal Island two-bedroom apartment that she and Alex called home. Everything that Camilla said was true.
Alex, the reluctant family member, was now head of the family. And now with the energy of finality palpable in the air, the family being together was more important than ever.
A knock on the door got their attention.
“I got it,” Yaw said, before he looked through the peek hole. He recognized the man on the other side and opened the door.
“I got your note,” Officer Dino Rodriguez said to Yaw. “Your messengers are pretty crafty, I’ll give you that. So we’re here like you wanted,” Rodriguez said, nodding to his partner Ellen Levy, who stood beside him.
“And all those O.G. cats from the funeral. Are they ready?” Camilla asked when they were inside.
“More than ready, just like Alex asked,” Rodriquez added. “So what’s next?”
Rika Muranaka stood outside the Coalition Fortress entrance gate, her eyes scanning over the buildings of the soon-to-be corporate nation-state.
Construction of an enormous wall surrounding the entire property had recently started, and the cranes and workers were moving at a noticeably rapid pace. The buildings that the wall would circumscribe gleamed in the sunlight—six glass and steel structures that looked no different from other high-rise buildings, but in fact were retrofitted with the most advanced surveillance and defense technology the world had ever created.
When the wall surrounding the Coalition Fortress was complete, including the wall and roof mounted anti-aircraft weaponry rumored to be in the works, it would take a large, well equipped, and fully trained army to successfully breach the entrance and take over the Fortress.
Or, maybe it would take one very nervous Japanese woman, wholly unsure if what she was doing was the right thing to be doing, armed only with a software access key for a program developed by a bitter rival.
Muranaka’s heart raced. She felt dizzy, and she forced herself to take several deep breaths to calm her nerves. The anxiety made her feel detached from her senses, as if she were a stranger in her own body.
She could do this, she kept reminding herself. No matter what happened next, good or bad, Rika Muranaka knew one thing for sure—after this, she would no longer be in anyone’s shadow.
Muranaka pulled her Coalition ID badge from her purse.
She straightened out her skirt suit and marched over to the Coalition Fortress entry gate with purpose.
She scanned her ID, nodded to the guard, and entered the Fortress.
“Is there even a nuclear sub, Ivan? Or was this some trick concocted by that pain-in-the-ass pattern reader that you just went along with?”
“We both know you could not take any chance. The very nature of brinksmanship, eh? And, of course, the submarine is real. Did you not see me make the phone call to make the stand by order?” Ivan “the Barbarian” Barbolin said as he poured himself a tumbler of vodka.
He did his best not to say more and gloat outright, but it was surprisingly difficult.
“As I told you, no missile shall be launched against you today,” he continued. “You, and your Coalition States of America are safe, provided I am safely away with the pattern reader.”
He looked at Glen Turner and held up the vodka tumbler. “Salute,” the Barbarian cheered, before knocking back the shot of alcohol. He smiled.
Turner fumed in silence.
“I have learned to like your office,” the Barbarian continued as he looked around Turner’s workplace. “I respect its simplicity. Conservative works of art that portray conservative values. Very American.”
Every word out of the Barbarian’s mouth felt like nails on a chalkboard for Turner.
Turner had already made up his mind that he was going to kill the Barbarian regardless of any agreement or mutual interests; there was no longer any question about it. There was no place on earth where the big Russian would be able to hide from him.
Ivan was right, Turner couldn’t take the chance that he and Luthecker were bluffing about the nuclear sub, and Coalition Naval Defense Systems working in clandestine conjunction with the U.S. Navy were already on the task of finding the rogue Russian vessel—if it was out there, they would locate and dismantle the threat soon enough.
Once the sub was eliminated, Turner would once again have the upper hand and this time it would be for good. It shouldn’t take long, hours perhaps, a day or two at most, and he would take down the world’s richest oligarch, violently, and make a statement to the underground world that there was no escaping the Coalition.
Patience, Turner thought, and both Ivan and L
uthecker will be problems of the past.
With this conclusion in mind, he mustered up every ounce of his psychological strength to smile at the Barbarian and get up from his couch.
I will kill the big Russian soon, was Turner’s only thought, by his own hand if circumstances allowed. But for now, he couldn’t get the gloating oligarch out of his office fast enough.
“How much longer will you grace us with your presence?” Turner asked, barely able to contain his fury.
“That depends. When will you turn over the pattern reader to me?” the Barbarian shot back.
“I told you. I’m dealing with a bit of a crises here. A crisis that could effect even you, Ivan. I need Luthecker on hand as potential leverage. As soon as I have his partner, Nicole Ellis, in custody and access to her program PHOEBE, he’s all yours,” Turner lied. “Until then, you’re just going to have to wait. I can air mail him in a box to you in Russia if you’d like.”
“No need. I can wait. Perhaps I will explore your grand facilities until you have the woman in hand.”
“Fine. I’ll arrange a guide.”
“Armed, no doubt?”
“Armed, no doubt. You’ve caused me enough trouble.”
Turner’s office line buzzed. The CEO approached his desk and picked up. “What is it?”
“Rika Muranaka has just entered the grounds, sir,” Turner’s executive assistant answered.
Muranaka had somehow managed to slip surveillance for several hours. Turner wanted to know why.
“Have her escorted to my office right way,” he replied. Turner looked at the Barbarian. “Okay, get out of my office. But don’t wander too far. This may be over real soon.”
“Sorry to interrupt your schedule so abruptly, but as you’ve told me personally, we face a serious crisis,” Turner said to Muranaka. “You haven’t been in your office. I’ve tried to reach you. Where have you been?”
The calm rhythm of Turner’s voice barely masked the tone of threat.
Muranaka swallowed hard and kept her emotions steady.
The Coalition Assurance security team had intercepted her the moment she stepped onto Fortress grounds, and she had used the six minutes it took to reach Turner’s office formulating an explanation.
“I was running some personal errands. I do that some times when I need to think, to problem solve, and sort out a strategy, like in trying to figure out how to access PHOEBE. I was in a dead zone when you called, and that’s why it went straight to voicemail,” Muranaka replied, all of which was technically true. “Fortunately, there will be fewer and fewer dead zones as Coalition Cellular starts replacing cell towers with better technology,” she added, hoping that the company promotion would take the focus off her whereabouts.
“Eventually there’ll be no dead spots of any kind,” Turner said. “There will be nowhere in the world that Coalition communications cannot reach.”
Turner studied Muranaka for several seconds.
Muranaka resisted the urge to react.
“Where do things stand at the moment?” Turner finally asked. “How close are you to breaking into the PHOEBE program? Has there been any direct contact or interaction at all with Nicole Ellis?”
Muranaka could feel her chest pounding, and she felt faint. Turner’s direct question presented a literal crossroads for her, and her answer would set the stage for her entire future.
Never in her life had Muranaka lied on a scale like this. Her mind raced—her culture frowned on lying. Her father would disown her if he found out that she had been less than truthful to her superior, regardless of intent. She was an employee of Coalition Properties, and that is where her loyalty should lie.
Glen Turner was a powerful man, one that, if Nicole Ellis were to be believed, could even have her killed if he wanted to. Muranaka’s face burned hot. She felt like Turner could see right through her.
She wavered. I just can’t do this, she thought to herself.
“Could I get a glass of water?” she finally asked. Her voice cracked with the question, and she swore at herself because of it.
“Of course,” Turner responded. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine. It’s just…it’s very hot out today.”
“Let me get that for you, then.”
Muranaka watched as Turner got up and walked toward his office mini bar.
He smiled at Muranaka as he poured water from a bottle into a small glass. He returned to the couch and handed her the glass.
Muranaka’s hand shook slightly as she took it. “Thank you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
She downed the glass of water in careful gulps. When she was finished, she set the glass down on the marble table between them and looked at Turner.
“I haven’t found Nicole Ellis,” she said to him. “My expertise is programming, not missing persons, so the only way for me to find Ellis would be via her interactions with PHOEBE, but so far I’ve found nothing, sir. It’s been completely quiet.
“I think she’s aware that PHOEBE is acting on its own accord, and my guess is that she’s fearful of any escalated mission creep that could potentially be set in motion by giving the program any new instructions.
“Her staying off the web and out of cyber-site are making the search to find her that much more difficult, sir—not to mention the whereabouts of the PHOEBE software construct on the deep net.
“But on a more positive note, I do believe I’m close to hacking into PHOEBE with what I have so far, without the help of Nicole Ellis,” Muranaka lied. “I may have found a back door into PHOEBE’s architecture. So the next time she pops up in the deep web, I should be ready. I was on my way to the Cyber Center when security said that you wanted to see me.”
“You do understand that time is of the essence, here.”
“Yes, sir, I do. That’s why I’m headed straight to the center. Why don’t you come with me, and I can show you how it all works if you’d like. I’d be more than happy to get you up to speed on the technical side.”
Turner examined Muranaka for several moments.
She sat up straight and held her breath. She tried to appear calm, but she was horrible at poker and had never bluffed before. She hoped the offer to Turner to observe her actions would show him that she had nothing to hide and actually discourage his further attention.
Subterfuge was not her talent, however, and every second she sat across from the Coalition CEO convinced Muranaka that he knew she was lying to him.
Her mind raced through all the possible negative outcomes. She would be fired. She would go to jail. She would pass out any second now and wake up in the hospital, fired, or arrested, or both.
After what seemed like an eternity, Turner finally spoke.
“That won’t be necessary,” he finally said to her.
Turner wasn’t sure if she was lying but didn’t feel it necessary to press further, not because he trusted Muranaka, but because he trusted the Coalition Fortress security systems.
As long as Muranaka was on Fortress grounds, her every move would be monitored, and if she was up to anything nefarious, she would be caught.
And once the surveillance systems were fully operational, he would no longer even have to speak with her, or anyone else, at all, as individual heart rates would be recorded and run for analysis, and Turner would be able to tell if Muranaka or anyone else were lying simply by checking the corresponding app on his phone.
But fully operational was still several weeks away, and at the moment, he had more pressing things to tend to directly than to watch over Muranaka’s shoulder.
He would have to trust but verify Muranaka’s activities the old-fashioned way for the time being, by monitoring her communications and assigning a Coalition Assurance team to keep track of her if she left the facilities.
There would be no more errands run without direct knowledge of her whereabouts.
“I trust you’ll keep me updated,” he added. “But do so hourly. And if you are h
eaded out of cell range, please let me know. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir. Absolutely, sir. Thank you.”
Muranaka sprang to her feet, smiled at Turner, and shook his offered hand vigorously.
She exited Turner’s office without looking back and also smiled and nodded at the robotic executive assistant as she walked by.
She walked down the hall and entered the ladies’ room.
After she confirmed that she was alone, Muranaka barged into the nearest stall, locked the door, and promptly threw up in the toilet.
After she finished, she steadied herself, got out of the stall, and checked to make sure she was still the only woman in the rest room.
She approached the nearest sink and washed her hands. As she grabbed several paper towels to dry her face, she looked at her reflection in the mirror. The meeting with Turner she had been forced into had definitely caught her off-guard. It had also made things very real.
Muranaka was surprised that she could lie to him so easily. But she knew he was watching her now. The slightest misstep would lead to her dismissal, or worse.
She checked that the restroom was empty a final time before she opened her purse and found the thumb drive that Nicole Ellis had given her.
Muranaka thought hard about her next move. The events of the last twenty-four hours had unfolded so fast, with so much change in her perspective. Yesterday she was after the rogue software called PHOEBE and the hacker Nicole Ellis who created her; now, she was contemplating things she didn’t think herself capable of.
Was she really going to go through with it? It was sabotage. It was potentially treason. Was a simple meeting set up by a rival’s A.I. software worth this risk? Was Nicole Ellis right about her—was this the moment of self-definition she had been waiting for? Was her knowing worth the risk?
Revolution: Luthecker, #3 Page 23
