Mastermind- Rise of the Trojan Horse

by Tom Wheeler

  “Okay, Dhilan. Gentlemen,” I said as I exited, wondering just what General Crane was going to tell the one person on the planet who’d likely believed in me, before he had become a cyborg. I had to find his memories for both of our sakes.

  

  99

  Selling The Euro

  October 25

  France

  “Let’s just say I have the invisible title to this beauty,” said Rihanna to the man identified as Roman Gagranovich at Rouen Airport in the Seine River Valley, outside Paris. No other people were around, including airport crew, perhaps because their shifts were changing, or perhaps because it was just before sunset after an unusually hot day and they were cooling down inside. It was just as well, since Rihanna attracted attention, despite her best efforts to remain invisible.

  “That is the most beautiful helicopter I have ever seen,” said Roman as he wandered around the silver craft, staring at the black-and-white-striped props on either side and just under the main rotor.

  Rihanna pursed her lips without speaking.

  “You think I am going to buy a stolen helicopter from you because of your good looks?” he asked, glancing in her eyes as he continued a 360-degree circle around the craft.

  “The black market is full of gems like you,” said Rihanna smartly. “Now, do you want this or not?” she asked with attitude, pissed off at the remark and apparent threat.

  “Why don’t I just turn you over to the authorities?” he said as he continued to look.

  “Why don’t I just turn you over to the authorities?” she responded as their eyes met. “I’ve heard about some of your shenanigans, Mr. Gagranovich,” she continued lying, but obviously he dabbled in the black market, so he was guilty of something. “Billions of dollars can’t save you.”

  “According to whom?”

  “Reinstein, Epstein, Madoff, to name a few,” she said, referring to American billionaires who’d been jailed because of illegal activity.

  “I suppose we will have to trust one another,” he said, smiling.

  “Is that a joke? You know you can’t just fly this thing around France without getting noticed.”

  “I don’t plan on flying it,” he said as he put his hands on the striped propeller.

  “Well, you can’t just drive it down the main street, either,” Rihanna said, flashing a fake smile.

  “I’m taking it apart,” he said. “Besides, you got it here, from . . . ?”

  “For what?” asked Rihanna without answering his question.

  “You are very curious. Perhaps too curious,” he said.

  “What happened to trusting one another?” she said. “Is this the JetRanger?” she asked over her shoulder, walking around the much smaller craft that sat a hundred yards from the Euro.

  “It is titled in your name,” he said, handing her the title. “Émilie du Châtelet, correct?”

  “The keys?” she asked with her hand out.

  “You first,” he said, and she handed him the keys to the Euro.

  “You know, living in a helicopter is revealing. Perhaps you’d like a job with me,” said Gagranovich, his eyes set on the bags sitting on the tarmac. “Here’s my card,” he said.

  “Doing what?” she asked.

  “Using your skills. I trust you have some, since apparently you can afford such an expensive helicopter.”

  Rihanna nodded, taking the card as she started toward the red, white, and blue Bell 505 JetRanger.

  “I assume your friend knows how to fly that bird?” she asked without turning. “Unless you’re going to take it apart right here,” she said, smiling, her back to Roman as she strode toward her new ride.

  “Actually, he doesn’t,” he said. Rihanna stopped in her tracks and turned. “I was hoping you would fly it to the Château de Fontainebleau. Edgar will fly your JetRanger. We will make the swap there.”

  “If that is the case, why didn’t we meet there?” asked Rihanna, flashing a look of surprise and disgust. “You just handed me the keys,” she said, flipping the keys back.

  “It’s a difficult time to trust anyone,” Gagranovich said. “I know what I am doing.”

  “So the ‘we’ll have to trust one another’ line was bull? And I thought we were just starting to like each other,” she said with attitude.

  “Well, Rihanna Zeva; excuse me, Émilie,” he said, and her lips parted in shock. “Don’t worry, your skullduggery is safe with me.”

  “If you know who I am, why would you swap aircraft instead of reporting me or stealing it?” she said, hands on her hips.

  “If I reported you, I wouldn’t get the aircraft. I can’t steal it; I don’t know how to fly it. Nor would I have the chance to hire you. Then again, you said my billions can’t save me.”

  “How’d you know to find me?”

  “A little birdie told me you were snooping around France, warning people of spiked drinks,” he said as Rihanna’s mind raced. “I knew Ahmadi, not that I was his friend. Your reputation precedes you.”

  “You’re really offering me a job?” she asked, knowing the only way he could have found out about her warning Capucine of the drink was if he was somehow connected to Capucine. Troy, she concluded.

  “I may require your services,” Gagranovich said. “For now, I need you to fly to these coordinates.” He handed her a note that read “48.4021° N, 2.6995° E.” “We will be right behind you.”

  “How about I follow you,” Rihanna said.

  “As you wish.”

  The sound of a turbine engine winding up arose in the background, quickly giving way to the sound of a racing tail rotor from the JetRanger. Rihanna jumped into the Silver Airbus Eurocopter X3 helicopter and turned the key, igniting the engine, which rumbled to a slow hum as the three blades began to move in rapid fashion. She adjusted the throttles as the sound became a high-pitched buzzing, as if she were inside a giant bumblebee.

  Within moments she was in the air. Her thoughts raced back to how Roman Gagranovich could have known about her encounter with Capucine and the mystery man, General Troy. Besides someone wanting to drug Capucine, unless it was for date rape, something wasn’t adding up. Now Rihanna had two people to keep her eye on: Capucine and Roman Gagranovich. Perhaps the best way to keep an eye on him was to work for him. One way or another, her instincts now told her she was going to have to discover the true identity of the billionaire and the mysterious General Troy. She’d trusted the mystery man long enough—too long. But she was still breathing.

  

  100

  Vive La France

  “The problem with Anna is not a problem to be fixed; rather, we need to get her home and plug her in,” said Crane, sitting in the Oval Office with Wesley Masters, Secretary of State Ike Moneo, and the president. “We had this issue once before—it required us to get Jerome and Nero back to CEDRA.”

  “So the blinking light means she’s out of gas?” asked Tense as Crane nodded.

  “Mr. President,” said Wesley. “I have an idea.”

  The president looked at Wesley inquiringly.

  “Macron mentioned their goal to make France the first country to have a robotic military,” Wesley began.

  “That’s everyone’s goal,” said Crane. “China is investing billions in technology.”

  “Except the French stole Cedra, and Capucine was sent to gather information from Mason,” said Wesley. “I think they are stealing technology in an effort to duplicate it.”

  “That is what everyone appears to be doing,” the president said. “The point, Director.”

  “Right. Yes. I’d like to schedule a follow-up meeting with CNES . . . ,” Wesley said. “Well, sort of. Kill two birds . . .”

  “The French space program?” asked Secretary Moneo, interrupting, his narrowed eyes showing his surprise at the suggestion
.

  “. . . with one stone. I know it sounds crazy, but Mars gets attention, and there is a robotics conference in Helsinki. I’d like to encourage Leon Tuss and the French to join us at the conference and then discuss further collaboration at a separate meeting.”

  “For what purpose?” asked Crane.

  “To discuss collaboration on a joint trip to Mars. Well, that is the decoy. Like I said, Mars is a buzzword that gets everyone’s attention.”

  “Can you please tell us what the hell you are talking about, Wesley?” the president demanded.

  “I’d like to confirm what the French are doing with Mason and Cedra,” said Wesley. “This may be our only shot before this psychic espionage gets shut down.”

  “You’re not old enough to have dementia,” said the general. “You do realize we are talking about Anna, our android—you know, the one working with President Crutin that is about to lose power, right?”

  “Right, the second bird,” he said as Crane’s eyes narrowed. “The US Embassy in Helsinki has an 880-volt connection because Ambassador Williams drives one of the new Porsches. It is eight miles from the conference. It wouldn’t be out of the question for Crutin to send Anna to the conference, particularly with her requesting to go. Once in Helsinki, she could travel to the embassy and recharge. As I said, we kill two birds with one—”

  “We heard you,” Crane broke in. “You want Anna to make her way to the embassy, plug herself without notice into an outlet meant for a car, and then head back to Russia?”

  “Yes, actually, that is exactly what I am saying. With one addition. Mason.”

  “The Mason you suspect is a jihadist?” asked Crane.

  “Nobody wants to believe that code was Mason’s, General, but if it was, we need to find out. Don’t we?” Wesley asked rhetorically. “If Mason is guilty, we’ll know for certain based on his behavior. Dhilan will be on site to read Capucine’s thoughts.”

  “How is that possible?” asked the president. “They won’t have that device on their head, the Telepathic . . .”

  “Auditor,” Wesley supplied. “Both Dhilan and Capucine have implants. But only Dhilan knows that Capucine has one. So he can read her—”

  “. . . mind without her knowing,” interjected Crane, looking a notch less skeptical.

  “If Mason is not a threat, then he can erase the trip from Anna’s GPS as well as be the reason for the visit to the embassy. You just need to work out details for him to get a car that hasn’t been released to the public yet. Don’t you know the CEO of Porsche?” Wesley looked at the president.

  “Why not just use Dhilan?” interrupted Crane.

  “Too risky, and Mason is leverage for the others to attend the meeting.”

  “Oliver Blumenthau, yes,” said President Tense, answering the question about Porsche.

  “You need to convince Blumenthau that Mason is worth a test drive in that car as part of their marketing campaign for the US.”

  “And why would he believe that?”

  “Because Mason built the most sophisticated biobattery on the planet. Tell Blumenthau you will allow him use of Mason as a consultant,” Wesley said. “I’m sure Porsche would be interested in such an advancement. They are well aware of the advances of the Akula—the car built by Phoenix.”

  “Do you all see the—” Crane began.

  “General, if Mason is innocent, he has nothing to worry about,” said Wesley.

  Crane knew Wesley was right to have suspicions about Mason since he did too. “Just so I have this straight,” he said, “you want to arrange for Mason, and Dhilan, to head to Helsinki for the robotics conference along with the others mentioned; have Mason pick up that car, take it to the embassy, and recharge Anna; have Dhilan read Capucine’s thoughts; and then bring all of them home?”

  Wesley nodded.

  “Mr. President?” asked Crane.

  “I like it. Do it,” the president directed.

  “Is Dhilan even able to travel?” Crane asked.

  “According to Mescher, he is, as long as he takes his medication.”

  “I don’t know, Mr. President.”

  “General, I understand how you feel, but I don’t think we have any choice if we are to keep Operation Gemini Twin in place.”

  “And we’re getting better intel from inside the Kremlin than ever before,” added Wesley. “Anna is our version of Robert Hanssen. Hanssen was the most prolific spy—”

  “I know who Hanssen is, Wesley,” said Crane. “His espionage did more damage to our country than any other person before him or since. I just feel like this is moving too—”

  “We can’t stop this, General, not now. Do it,” ordered the president for the second time.

  

  101

  Spy Games

  Before heading into the NASA building, I considered the medical advantages of cyborgs and the benefits of androids able to accomplish tasks normally dangerous to humans. I sensed the world was coming to a boiling point. Reading Revelation in the Grand Book this morning reminded me of the coming apocalypse, although that alarm had been sounded so often that I, too, wondered if we wouldn’t skirt by again, and future generations would deal with the reality of that prophecy. There was just something different about the year 2020—the year of hindsight. Those were my last thoughts before reaching my office. I set down my laptop and sat at my desk as General Crane walked through the doors. Without small talk, he began speaking, something I was becoming used to the more I got to know him.

  “Mason? The president and Wesley Masters have requested that you travel to Helsinki, Finland, with Dhilan to attend a robotics conference.”

  “Dhilan can’t travel. He’s still recovering,” I said, sitting up and looking at the three monitors showing the androids’ schematics, as if I had been working for hours. “When do you expect a replacement supercomputer for Jerome?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “That’s up to the congressional committee.”

  “You know we can’t use the billion-dollar man until we get this installed, right?” I said, merely acting.

  “That is why the former president didn’t tell the congressional committee what he was doing,” Crane responded; my eyes narrowed.

  “We know Capucine works for the French government,” he continued, obviously oblivious to my state of mind. “Wesley has asked me to see if we can’t arrange a meeting to find out what else they’re doing.”

  “In Helsinki? That seems a bit far to go for a meeting,” I said. “Why not just ask her?”

  “If only that was a viable option. There’s a robotics conference. There is another reason . . .”

  “Of course there is. What, you want me to take maltodextrin to Anna in Russia on my return trip? Remember, you all asked me to chaperone Jerome back to Iran after I had been kidnapped by Hassan bin Laden’s cronies.”

  “I remember, Mason. But no, that is not what he is asking,” said Crane. “We want you to ensure that Capucine is attending, then find out what the French are up to. That’s the reason Dhilan’s going with you.”

  “Now you’ve completely lost me. Dhilan is going to interrogate her?”

  “Capucine has an implant; Dhilan will have full access to her thoughts when he is in her presence, without her knowledge.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that,” I said, standing up.

  “You were aware she had a chip?”

  “She told me,” I said, and Crane’s forehead wrinkled.

  “What?”

  “I suspected something. Since she’s involved in neurology, I asked her directly.”

  “Why on earth would you tell her you know? And why would she admit it?” he asked.

  “She knows I have a sense of discernment, and if I caught her lying, it would have consequences.”

  “Except she is ly
ing.”

  “Well, if she works for the government, she can’t talk. I can’t judge her for doing what we do, although it certainly does tarnish relationships. At least intimate ones.” After a pause, I asked, “What was the other reason?”

  “You told us Anna needs power.”

  “I told you to bring her in,” I said, “because she is about out of power. Once that light begins blinking, she’s on the bottom edge of her power. You’ve already pushed her limits.”

  “We can’t bring her in,” he said as I took a deep breath, knowing he wasn’t going to elaborate. “I need you to pick up a Porsche and meet up with Anna at the US Embassy.”

  “Over my head? Too heavy. Maybe a smart car,” I said sarcastically.

  “Funny.”

  “Why do I need a Porsche, besides my obvious desire to have one, not that I believe I ever mentioned that to you?”

  “Publicly, for you to meet the ambassador as part of a PR campaign. You will be driving the latest Porsche and will charge it while at the embassy. The real reason is to charge Anna.”

  “Except Porsche doesn’t have a car that uses 880-volt electricity, nor does the embassy have an 880 charger.”

  “They do now. Their CEO has agreed to let you drive their newest car as part of a marketing campaign in the US.”

  “You’re going to let me drive a Porsche in Finland?” I asked, looking at the bright side of this idea.

  “The autobahn is in Germany,” said Crane, “if that’s what you were thinking.”

  “Too bad. What about the embassy?”

  “They recently installed an 880 hookup after making a deal with Porsche. Ambassador Williams drives one of their test models.”

  “Why would an ambassador . . .”

  “Don’t ask.”

  “Okay. What about the cable? I’d rather not have to explain why I’m taking one through the TSA, unless Benjamin Wilson is my pilot.”

  “The cable will be provided for you at the embassy. You will be flying commercial to maintain your cover.”

  “About the code I wrote . . .” I changed the subject, ready to have the conversation, although I was not sure who was going to be capable of reviewing it to verify my defense.