Qubit, page 8
“I’m just happy, that’s all,” he explained. “I mean, guys, c’mon. We just built a fucking quantum computer. It’s only the second one ever built. It’s like being the second guy to walk on the moon. We weren’t first, but it’s still pretty awesome, right?”
Singapore Financial District • South China Finance Group
Monday, April 23rd
8:00 p.m. SGT (Singapore Time)
Vipul stared out the southern-facing window of his office, admiring the lights of the city at night and the blackness beyond them that was the South China Sea.
Anand’s voice brought him back from his reverie. “Vipul.” He was standing in the doorway as if he were made of stone.
“Come in,” said Vipul, waving his trusted advisor into the room.
Anand sat down in one of the chairs in front of Vipul’s smoked-glass desk. “I know I’ve said this before,” he began.
Vipul groaned. His throat was sore and his body ached. “You think we have some chuhon among us.”
“I think they’re skimming a bit. That’s all. They think you’re weak. They don’t fear you.”
Vipul leaned against the windowpane and pressed the side of his face to the glass. It felt cool. “Because I haven’t retaliated for Satish’s murder.”
“Exactly. Please understand, I don’t agree with them. But I am hearing things. They say, ‘It’s been three months.’ They say, ‘We have been patient, but there are limits.’ And so on.”
Vipul forced himself upright and trudged to his desk before collapsing into his chair. “We’ve discussed this before.”
“Yes. There was grumbling before. There is always grumbling. But now…”
“Now you think some of them—”
“Are taking action. They’re testing you. They don’t say that. But they don’t have to.”
Vipul frowned and looked down at his hands on the desk. Some scotch would feel good in his throat. “These past three months…”
“I know,” said Anand.
Vipul knew that he did. Anand had been with him at every rundown airport and every nondescript office. He pushed himself up and stood. “Scotch?” he asked.
“Please.”
Vipul ambled to the minibar, fixing his eyes on the view of the city and black void beyond, his footsteps silent on the thick carpet. He slowly made them both a drink to the sounds of liquid sloshing into a glass and the clinking of half-melted ice cubes.
He passed Anand his drink. Anand’s hands looked like something from a Michelangelo sculpture and made the glass appear very small. “They’re testing me,” reiterated Vipul after retaking his seat. “Stupid…and tedious. But it doesn’t really matter.”
“It doesn’t?”
“No. Not really.”
Anand took a slow sip of his scotch.
“Anand, you know what I’ve been telling our agents. About the expected returns.”
“Yes.”
“They will dwarf the revenues of our entire operation.”
“Yes. In theory.”
Vipul pursed his lips and stared into his glass.
Anand attempted to explain. “Your father—”
“Don’t,” Vipul warned, raising his eyes to meet Anand’s.
“I must. I must speak. Your father asked me to look after you. Which I have done. But I would be failing in my duty not to speak. This is a dangerous course you are taking.”
Vipul’s face softened. He looked down into his drink again. “You think one of them might make a play.”
“That’s a nice way of putting it. If they think you’re weak—”
“Fine.” Vipul raised his eyes again. He took a draught of his scotch. “What do you think I should do? Keep in mind we have to hit the road again soon.”
“Yes. I don’t know what you should do. You must assert yourself. Perhaps we could find out who is positioning themselves to take—”
Vipul slammed his glass on his desk. “We don’t have time for this shit!”
“You’ll have all the time in the world if you’re killed, I suppose.”
Vipul slumped forward over his desk. “It’s so fucking pathetic,” he groaned.
Anand said nothing.
Vipul sat up and leaned back, swiveling his chair to face the window again with what was left of his drink in his hand. “They’re just like dogs. All this scheming over the table scraps. You’d think they’d be happy with what they have. Instead, they plot against me to grab just a little bit more.”
“They think Li Mun is going to muscle you out, that’s all.”
Vipul leaned back in the chair, suddenly amused. “And I’ve been away for three months without telling anyone why.”
“Yes.”
“For all they know, I’ve just been partying in Hong Kong.”
“Yes.”
“Okay. They’re not like dogs. They’re like children.”
Anand was silent again.
Vipul whirled around to face Anand again, clinking his glass on the table. “Don’t they know I’m my father’s son? Why would they think for a moment that I’m weak?”
“Li Mun killed your brother. The men believed your brother was strong.”
Vipul nodded, swallowing hard. He’d forgotten that Anand didn’t know about his deal with Li Mun. His fatigue was causing him to let his guard down too much. “All right. Let me think about it.”
“Thank you.” Anand stood up. He looked down at his glass for a moment. Throwing his head back, he finished the rest of his scotch and placed the glass roughly on Vipul’s desk before turning slowly and walking out the door.
Vipul stood and walked casually back over to the minibar by the window to fix himself another scotch. Again, he looked out past the lights into the blackness. He turned back toward the door, wishing Anand was still in the room. He didn’t feel like being alone.
He raised his glass to the window, as if toasting the city itself. “Here’s to you, Pop,” he said. He took a sip and savored the liquid burning in his throat as it went down.
East Detroit • The Lab
Monday, April 23rd
10:00 a.m. EDT (Eastern Daylight Time)
The last of the green dots appeared, and Lock wheeled around expectantly.
“Wonderful,” said Kirin.
“We did it,” Lock reiterated. “We built a clone of the Wave Nine.”
“Yes. So it would seem.”
Lock’s head tilted and his eyes narrowed slightly.
Kirin’s eyes shifted rapidly back and forth between Lock and the oversized monitor displaying the green dots. He cleared his throat. “I think we need a more…practical…test.”
Lock’s eyes narrowed further. “Such as? These are the same tests that Coherence ran. This was good enough for them to issue a press release and probably sell the technology for a small fortune to the NSA. So I would think it’s good enough, you know…for us.”
“I am not a scientist,” said Kirin. He gestured vaguely toward the monitor. “To me, these are just so many green dots. You say ‘walk’ or ‘BPQ’ or Grover-something, but I don’t know what that means. I don’t know what you’re showing me.”
“What I’m saying is—” Lock hesitated, not sure how to explain the nature of the tests. “All the algorithms that a quantum computer needs to be able to run, we can run.”
“I’m sure that’s true. But we need to prove that.”
“We just did,” said Lock, the tone of his voice rising. He could sense that behind him Raj and Sanjay were watching them closely.
“I have a test in mind,” ventured Kirin.
“Okay,” Lock prompted, placing his hands on his hips.
“If I understand correctly, you should now be able read data on the Web, even if it is secure.”
Lock paused and moistened his lips. “You mean traffic encrypted with SSL?”
“You see what I mean? Is that the right way to say it? I’m not technical.” Kirin smiled.
Lock felt his insides knotting. “I’m not sure. Because I’m not sure what you’re trying to say. So it’s hard for me to know if you’re saying what you mean.”
Kirin put his hands up, palms up. “Of course. Let me give you an example. Suppose I have a brokerage account. With someone like, oh, say, E-Trade or Ameritrade.”
“An online brokerage account.”
“Right. When I log in and access my account, that is secure data. Right?”
“The traffic between your Web browser and the brokerage servers is encrypted. Using SSL.”
“Exactly. Consequently, no one can make transactions on my behalf.”
“Right,” said Lock slowly. He was beginning to see where this was headed.
“But…if you were to send this traffic through your quantum computer here…”
“So you want me to decrypt SSL encrypted traffic? As a proof of our success?” Lock’s eyes wandered for a moment, then refocused. “I guess I can do that. There’s a relatively recent attack based on Schur transforms—”
“Yes. But it’s more than that. I’d like you to decrypt so much traffic that you could not possibly be faking it.”
“Faking it?”
“Yes. If you were to show me, say, one password for one account, or even a thousand accounts from the same brokerage, it’s possible that you might have gotten those passwords some other way. Some conventional way.”
“The brokerage accounts…that’s just an example, right?”
Kirin pursed his lips. “I’d like you to show me the passwords for, say, a thousand accounts…from each of the top ten online brokerage firms.”
Lock was silent for a moment. “That’s not what I signed up for.”
Kirin raised his arms. “A misunderstanding. I’ll be happy to give you another ten-thousand-dollar advance against what you’re—”
“Another advance?”
“Well, yes.”
Lock was silent, staring at the floor, his lips pursed. “I did what you asked me to do,” he insisted quietly. He looked up. “I built you a clone of the Wave Nine.”
“Certainly, certainly.” Kirin took a step toward Lock, who stepped back. “Let’s talk this over in my office. Privately.”
Lock’s cheeks felt warm. “What is there to discuss?”
Kirin raised and eyebrow. “Calm down.”
Lock took another step back and took a breath. “I’m fine. I just want to know when I’m going to get paid.”
“As soon I am sure that we can use this computer for its intended purpose.”
Lock rubbed his eyes and took another deep breath. He looked up and eyed Kirin warily. “I don’t want to have anything to do with that. It’s just like you said. If you could have licensed the technology, you would have. Right? I don’t want to know what you’re doing with it. That’s not my business. It’s not my problem. What is my—”
“Lock, please. You will be paid. Believe me. We are very happy with your work. All I—”
“And who the fuck is we anyway? I work for you. And I did my job. You pay me. That’s how it works in this country.”
“Well now, Lock, now that you mention it…suppose I decided not to pay you? Who would you go to, exactly? Now let’s just be reasonable.”
Lock rocked his head back and stared at the ceiling, disoriented. He’d been expecting a pat on the back and a check for few million bucks. Or at least a down payment. Or bearer bonds. He should have known better. Kirin was a criminal. Who else would hire someone like him? To steal technology? That itself could be used to steal other things?
He walked over to the closest desk and sat down. He looked up at Kirin, who was still smiling pleasantly. “What you’re asking me is to do another job. One I don’t want.”
“As I said, I’d be happy to give you an advance and then when—”
Lock raised his arms. “Are you going to pay me or not?”
Kirin pulled up a chair next to him, leaning forward. He appeared to be amused. “Yes, of course we’re going to pay you. It’s just that I have to demonstrate your work in a way that my employer can understand. Just relax.”
Lock turned away. After a moment, he got up and walked toward his own desk. He shoved his laptop into his satchel.
“Lock—”
Lock put up his hand as he threw his satchel over his shoulder. His hands were trembling slightly. “I’m sorry. I just can’t do this right now.”
Outside, he raised his arm to his eyes to shield them from the glare of the morning light. He made his way over to his truck and stopped without getting in. He remembered pulling up earlier that morning, thinking it would be last time he’d have to drive it anywhere but to a dealer. He opened the door to the truck and got it, slamming it shut. He put the key in the ignition and turned it several times until the engine finally turned over.
He knew now that he’d never see more than a just a string of advances until they had what they needed from him. The only thing for him to do now was to stay as far away from Patel and Associates as possible.
7
* * *
Corktown, Detroit • Mad Dog's Tavern
Monday, April 23rd
10:00 p.m. EDT (Eastern Daylight Time)
Lock gestured erratically from his bar stool. “I mean, a deal is a deal, right?”
“Right,” agreed Kafka.
“And I did my job,” emphasized Lock, making a fist.
“Right. Man, I—”
“And so I should get paid. Simple. Plain and simple. Am I right?”
“Sure, Lock.”
“I need another beer,” said Lock before emptying his pint glass.
Kafka looked forlornly at his nearly full glass. “You’re getting ahead of me here.”
“Vicky! Where’s Vicky?”
“Billie’s working tonight. I already told you that.”
“Oh, right. Billie!”
“I’m right here, Lock,” said Billie, her blond ponytail swishing behind her as she turned.
“Billie,” began Lock, “I think you should come home with me—”
“He needs another beer,” Kafka interjected.
“I doubt that,” said Billie, one eyebrow raised. “But whatever.”
“Whatever!” yelled Lock as Billie turned to help another customer. He turned back to Kafka. “I did my job. I’m supposed to get paid.”
“Maybe you should just, you know, do what he’s asking. And then you’ll get paid.”
“That wasn’t our deal.”
“I’m just saying.”
“That I should steal people’s passwords?”
Kafka frowned and blinked slowly. “Oh, come on, Lock. Don’t pretend to take the high road now. I mean, how’d you get the specs for the damn thing in the first place.”
“That was different!”
“How?”
“Well…it was for a purpose.”
“A purpose?” Kafka shook his head as though there were something inside he was trying to get out. “Sure. But, hey, if you want to get paid…”
Lock stared into the bottom of his empty glass. “Damn it.”
“What?”
“You’re right. What else can I do?”
“Exactly.”
“It’s not like I can go to the cops.”
Kafka laughed. “No, it’s not like you can do that.”
ψ
Lock was having trouble staying upright on his barstool. Instead, he was nearly lying across the bar. “And then I’m going to take Sophie to Hawaii. To live with me.”
“Sounds nice,” agreed Kafka, who was only slightly more upright.
“You’d come too, man. Right?”
“Sure.”
“I mean, who doesn’t love—hey!” Lock fell forward, spilling half a glass of whiskey, and then turned to a large square-shouldered man with bright blue eyes who’d just elbowed his way to the bar. “Watch yourself, asshole!”
The large man turned to Lock and glowered. “Go fuck yourself,” he said nonchalantly.
Lock stood up unsteadily. “Are you sure that’s how you want this to go?”
“Back the fuck up,” said his new adversary.
Kafka placed a hand on Lock’s shoulder. “Come on, Lock, take it easy.”
Lock shrugged him off. “Nah, man. I’m sick of this. I’m sick of getting pushed around. Go find your own fucking bar.”
The two men glared at each other. The large man with the blue eyes seemed to make a decision and shoved Lock, who stumbled backward while taking an awkward swing that connected with nothing and nearly spun him around. His opponent waited and then took a very deliberate swing, his fist crunching into Lock’s nose. Lock’s head snapped back and he nearly fell to the ground. But he kept his feet and, overcompensating for the force of the punch, fell forward, nearly tackling his adversary, who pushed him aside into a group of young women at a nearby table. Two of them shrieked, and a third dropped her glass, which shattered on the floor. Lock spun around, setting his feet in a wide stance, preparing to throw another punch. The blue-eyed man was momentarily distracted by the shattering glass, and Lock seized the opportunity, landing a blow right across his mouth, sending him sprawling against the bar. Lock intended to spring forward and finish him off, but something was holding him back.
“That’ll be all, Lock,” growled a familiar voice behind him.
Lock frantically attempted to twist free before giving up and going limp. “Hey, Clancy,” he said without looking back at the resident Mad Dog bouncer. “I haven’t paid my bill. I have to tip Vicky,” he protested.
“Billie,” corrected Kafka. “I’ll take care of it. Let’s just get you out of here.”
“I got him good, didn’t I? Eh, Clancy? He’s bleeding.”
“Sure, Lock. Maybe look in the mirror, though.”
