by Tom Wheeler
“You don’t think Russia has a secondary agenda?” asked the president as he looked at Marína. “I’m not implying your husband was involved. I mean now.”
“There is no evidence. President Crutin denied any involvement, and we have no reason to doubt him,” she said, as if former president Crumpler were in the room.
“Wasn’t it Crutin’s idea to lure Ahmadi and Ahmadinejad to Moscow?” asked Wesley. Marína nodded.
“So that’s why you were—” Crane started, but was interrupted by the president.
“Not surprised when I saw Ahmadinejad show up on that flight. The Russians said they understood how they would react if a nuke were detonated on their soil. I mentioned it to Sam; I guess he mentioned it to you, Wesley,” the president explained. Wesley nodded. Crane grew uncomfortable.
“The entire situation seems too . . . ,” said Crane, hesitating.
“Perhaps you are looking at it from the wrong angle,” Marína said.
“Or perhaps the detonation opened up a door for them that we haven’t been able to see because of the attack,” said Crane.
“Except the conservative members of the Iranian Council of Guardians, who are more favorable to our position than to Russia’s, are now in charge,” said Marína. “They still dismiss us, but they’re no friends of the Russians. So that wouldn’t make sense if they were trying to harm us. Don’t . . . Forgive me. I wouldn’t suggest rocking the boat, Mr. President.”
The men paused.
“What choice did the Russians have?” Crane asked rhetorically. “The nuke went off. If they didn’t get along with us and accept the deaths of those two leaders, they knew we’d turn Iran into a parking lot. That in itself is a win for Russia’s president. Helping the US to take out the players doesn’t hurt the Russians politically, and appears to be helping them develop their relationship with the West,” said Crane, wondering what he was witnessing. He was used to these conversations with the former president—but not with Tense.
“Regardless of which group ultimately takes over, is that what you mean?” asked Wesley.
The president looked at Crane, then Wesley.
“Perhaps we are overlooking a door that has been opened because of the attack, which may allow Russia to make a move somewhere in the world. There is even rumor Crutin wants Alaska back,” said Crane.
“That is absurd, General, and you know it. Have you ever considered that Crutin’s humanity is showing?” asked Marína, maintaining her defense of Russia without changing her expression.
“Ex-KGB agents don’t have humanity,” said Crane. “I understand it’s your job to make peace, and defend your husband, Ambassador, but I suspect something is going on under our noses that we are allowing because of the nuke. What if that intercepted call links Jonah Soul, a prominent American CEO, to Russia? You want us to dismiss that as nothing?”
“I don’t deal in speculation,” said Marína. “Have you found any evidence to indicate Jonah is anything other than the CEO of Phoenix Corporation and an astute businessman?”
“No,” Wesley replied.
“Please. We didn’t have reason to suspect him until now. Why would we have any other evidence?” asked Crane, inwardly rolling his eyes, his arms folded across his chest.
“Do we really need another witch hunt with an innocent American as we play our partisan games?” she pressed on, directing her gaze at General Crane.
“Didn’t you say Crutin wants Anna Butwina returned?” Wesley asked Marína, interrupting the gaze between her and Crane.
She nodded. “Yes, he does. Why?”
“The Anna Butwina? The NRA spy? What about her, and where did this come from?” asked Crane, stunned by the remarks. Wesley nodded. He was talking about the Russian woman accused of spying on the Crumpler administration via the NRA, who was currently being held in a detention center in Alexandria.
29
Returning Anna Butina
“Let’s give him what he wants,” Wesley said confidently, looking at President Tense. “That could clear up this entire mess. We give Butwina back, and they give us two of our agents still held in detention.”
“I already told you—” Crane began, but the president interrupted.
“I’m not doing a Joey Bergdadi exchange—that was a disaster,” said the president, referring to the prisoner swap under former president Obama. “If word got out that I was giving back a supposed spy, both the Democrats and Republicans would come unglued.”
“May I?” asked Wesley as Crane bit his tongue.
“I think you’d better,” said the president, arms now folded, as were Crane’s, since none of what Wesley was saying appeared related to the issue at hand.
“Former president Crumpler would change the narrative until nobody believed giving Anna Butwina back was in the same ballpark as the al-Qaeda operatives’ exchange for Joey Bergdadi.” Crane looked at Wesley with his upper lip raised, nose wrinkled, conveying his dismay as Marína sat somewhat stoically but with an eerie gleam in her eyes. “I’m just saying, I don’t think you have to worry about an exchange—if you spin it properly.”
“That sounds insane, unless Anna became a double agent,” said the president. Marína nodded agreement.
“Why even consider that, when we have Victor and Cynthia Pollard as established assets?” Crane asked Wesley, referring to their own embedded agents in Russia.
“Because Crutin doesn’t share his most top secret material with Vladimir and Lydia,” Wesley said. “Or at least that’s what I’m hearing from Vladimir. They think something’s going on that they have purposely been kept from understanding.” He paused.
“You have something else to add?” Crane asked.
“Does the ambassador have top secret clearance?” asked Wesley.
“Yes, she does,” answered the president, locking eyes with Marína.
“She knows about our assets?” asked Wesley. Crane’s eyebrows rose.
“My husband filled me in on Nero and Jerome, if that is what you mean,” said Marína as General Crane closed his eyes in dismay. The president pursed his lips.
“Who the hell else knows about our secret assets?” Crane blurted out.
“He is my husband,” said Marína. “Nobody else knew about them, I can assure you.”
“Send Nero back to Russia as Anna,” Wesley interrupted stoically. Both Crane and the president narrowed their eyes and tightened their lips. Marína sat motionless, but her interest appeared to spike.
A moment of awkward silence followed.
“Anna isn’t going to turn on her country because we think it’s a good idea,” said Crane. “Wesley . . .”
“No, no. I’m not suggesting we send Nero with Anna. I mean send Nero as Anna,” Wesley clarified.
“I’m sorry, how would we do that, and how the hell do you even know to suggest that idea?” asked Crane, obviously frustrated, as the president took his chin in his hand.
“You tell me—you built them; you can certainly change their appearance, right?” Wesley asked with a cordial but hawkish look that made Crane uneasy, and created a slight smile on Marína’s face.
“It’s not that easy,” said Crane, believing the idea either brilliant or . . .
“A Trojan horse, huh?” said the president, nodding. “Is it possible, General?”
General Crane took a long, deep breath.
“We don’t have enough information about Anna Butwina to turn Nero into her, even if we could make a physical replica or twin,” Crane finally answered as Wesley’s look intensified.
“Except you just told us that Leon Tuss has a device that allows us to read minds,” said Wesley.
“Not exactly. I said he is integrating chips that allow users to interact with computers.”
“And Jerome and Nero are the smartest computers on the planet. I know, perhaps
this is a stretch, but what if we could use that technology to read Anna’s mind, allowing us the information necessary to send one of the androids back in her place?” asked Wesley. “Have them reverse-engineer the device if necessary.”
“Could that possibly work?” asked the president.
“I don’t see why not,” said Wesley.
“Landing men on Mars is possible. Just not tomorrow. It’s a stretch, gentlemen,” said Crane, unwilling to discuss his understanding of neural thread or his discussion with Dhilan that morning.
“But if it worked, we would have another advantage. I like it,” said the president. “Find out if it is possible, General. And keep me posted. Wesley, good work. Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse us, Marína and I have some further business to discuss.”
30
Truth Revealed
September 6
Cape Canaveral, Florida
NASA’s lobby was an open, low-ceilinged room with the blue NASA logo plastered on the cream-colored marble floor, with several gray marble columns equally spaced throughout the area; it was large enough to hold a wedding reception. A big screen displayed the first moon landing in repeat mode, and in a glassed-off area, a 3-D hologram of Neil Armstrong was located, showing him sitting cozily in a chair, reading a book. He looked eerily real as he flipped pages, blinked his eyes, and moved about as if he were the real deal. In the center of the room was the reception desk, staffed by an attractive middle-aged woman wearing a white uniform. After announcing I was scheduled to meet Dr. Hannah, I moved over to chat with Armstrong.
“Mason. Nice to see you again,” Dr. Hannah said a few moments later, extending his hand as I excused myself from the hologram. “Amazing, isn’t it?” he asked, looking at the image. Dr. Dhilan Hannah was a good-looking, middle-aged, neatly dressed man possessing a unique calmness that was fitting for a rocket scientist, at least in my world. His soft brown eyes and demeanor were refreshing. We had met several months before at CEDRA training in Iran.
“Indeed. It’s hard to tell he isn’t a real person.”
“Perhaps he is. This way,” said Dr. Hannah with a smile as he led me to the elevator. Once off the elevator, he took me to a conference room where he motioned for me to sit. He looked me in the eyes.
“Yes, Ahmez is an android,” he blurted out immediately. “We call him Jerome, or Android XJ-47.” My heart raced instantly, filled with euphoria either because I was right or because I knew telling me meant they had to hire me.
“I knew it! You said Cedra was ‘arguably’ the most advanced robot in the world.”
“What?” he asked, a curious expression etched on his face as mine remained elated.
“At CEDRA training. You said Cedra was arguably the most advanced robot in the world, when every other speaker was definitive that Cedra was the most advanced robot. Of course Cedra is an impressive robot,” I said, referring to Cedra, the human robot or android that far exceeded anyone’s expectations but didn’t match Ahmez’s abilities.
“Impressive. You don’t miss a thing, do you? I didn’t know I said that,” he answered, looking away. “Huh.”
“Nobody listened to me as a kid, so I was forced to. I guess there was a benefit,” I said, smiling.
“More people probably listened than you think. Anyway, I did. Your college thesis on biobatteries was a catalyst to completing Ahmez’s power constraints,” he said with a slight smile. “You didn’t tell anyone about your suspicions?”
I continued to gloat.
“No, although a New York Times columnist asked me point blank if an android had rescued me.”
“Lisa Cummings?”
“Yes. You read the article?”
“I did. Had you said anything, we’d have had to insinuate you were off your rocker,” Dhilan said, smiling.
I rolled my eyes, wondering just how people would react when I told them I saw angels and demons. “I think I’ve figured out how my college thesis helped you,” I added eagerly, while moving on quickly.
“Do tell,” said Dr. Hannah, leaning comfortably back in his chair, his hands folded over his stomach.
“Like most, I was stuck on the immobilization of bio-electrocatalysis and protein denaturation. I considered a battery using energy from carbohydrates, amino acids, and enzymes, but until I incorporated an anode consisting of sugar-digesting enzymes, as well as a cathode comprising oxygen-reducing enzymes and a mediator on either side of a cellophane separator, I was stuck. That solved the two biggest problems—”
“Increasing the power density and increasing the enzyme stability,” Dr. Hannah interrupted. “I saw your work from CEDRA. I gathered you had put two and two together. Have you done anything further with your discovery?”
“After I gave it to Phoenix—well, Jack Dawson—I made a couple of enhancements,” I said, looking Dr. Hannah in the eyes.
“As did I,” said Dhilan.
“Oh yes, about that,” I said, narrowing my eyes.
“You saw my code?” asked Dhilan, a quizzical look etched on his face.
“Yes, I made a few tweaks,” I said sheepishly. “There was still an issue with power if not plugged into 880 volts. Between the two of us, we fixed it, but I never sent the code to Phoenix, so they still have a few fixes. Not that it could impact their dream car—well, I don’t think it could.”
“And all that time I thought it was a state-of-the-art manufacturing facility you were working on,” he said, smiling.
“Funny. I was under an NDA. Still am, but since they have announced Akula, I suppose I’m free to speak about that.” I mirrored his smile. We were speaking of the car just released by Phoenix Corporation—the company I currently worked for.
“I saw the sneak-preview advertisement of Akula. Impressive.”
“Not to change the subject, but how can NASA be so far in front of the rest of the world?” I asked, still not comfortable talking about the work Phoenix was doing.
“How do you know we are?” Again he smiled.
“Please. If you’re not, we’re in trouble,” I said with pursed lips.
“Ever hear of Area 51?” he asked.
“Of course. We have aliens there, right?”
“Not exactly. But Area 51 is working on projects the government doesn’t want anyone seeing—at least when they’re labeled top secret.”
“So the government really is involved in projects few would believe possible,” I said as he nodded. “When do these ‘secrets’ get revealed to the public?”
“When the current technological edge becomes obsolete,” he said, “and when the release of new technology is beneficial to our culture. Timing is important, and so are scales of production, since price points have to decline to acceptable levels.”
“What do you mean by ‘beneficial to our culture’?”
“DECREE 2020, for instance. Nobody thought that possible until a nuke hit, although the chips have been available for a few years now,” he said. “President Crumpler mentioned chips in 2017, but without traction. It appears he was testing the water. When it didn’t go over well, he blamed Obama for trying to add chip implants as part of Obamacare, although that has been labeled fake news. Since then, fear has escalated to a tipping point—nobody is safe. Therefore, DECREE 2020 is palatable.” I realized that approach to timing was true of Phoenix as well, since they had built a flying car but hadn’t announced it due to price points.
“Except DECREE 2020 is voluntary,” I said, “and not making progress through Congress in any other fashion.”
“It will get through,” Dhilan said confidently.
“How can you be so sure?”
“I thought you were the prophet,” he retorted, smiling. “Like I said, people are terrified. Besides, did you see the scanning dome in the lobby? There’s no stopping technological advances.”
&n
bsp; “But still,” I persisted, “how can NASA, or Area 51, be ahead of the private sector, like Apple, IBM, Google, Amazon, and some of the others that are working in artificial intelligence, even Phoenix? I thought the entire idea of the private sector was to create enough competition so that private enterprise exceeded the government’s ability to get things done.”
“The US government is a giant ATM that throws money in volumes toward its priorities. When this is done correctly, the money is used properly and advancements come sooner, which was the case with the androids. The problem is, the bureaucracy usually disrupts its ability to produce.”
I nodded. “Democracy requires proper checks and balances despite its dysfunction, I understand. My dad told me about a time when the government was purchasing hammers for a couple hundred thousand dollars each. That’s insane.”
“Exactly. People take advantage of large bureaucracies,” he said. “Things can get lost . . .”
I nodded.
“Anyway, what I wanted to say was that the line between truth and lies gets hazier the more someone knows and the more sensitive the information,” said Dhilan.
“I hadn’t figured that into the equation—the secrets of leaders, I mean.”
Dhilan’s face became intense. “My country demands I lie to everyone when it involves top secret assignments or work. The same will be true for you, Mason. It’s one of the most difficult parts of this job. People may want to tell the truth, but top secret clearance doesn’t allow it, not without risking treason. I couldn’t tell you about Ahmez without losing my job—correction, career.”
I nodded.
“Speaking of secrets, what do you want me to tell Jack and Adam?” I asked.
“As little as possible.”
My eyebrows rose. I blinked hard.
“See what I mean? I know this puts you between a rock and a hard place, but you caught us with our pants down, so to speak,” Dhilan said, smiling slightly.
“So you are offering me a job?”
“You were privy to top secret information before we could hire you.”
