BETA - Project Avatar, page 3
“The name does sound familiar. I’ll look into it.” He took another mouthful of food. Whatever he was eating, he had plenty of it. “So, are you actually at this confab or whatever? I mean, right now, after the hijacking and everything? Who’s there with you?”
Dee’s expression clouded. “That’s the worst part of it. Do you remember Ed Haas, from Endyne?”
“Sure, I know Ed.”
“Well, he was badly hurt in the hijacking and they’re not letting me go see him.”
“Jesus!” Abe blew unidentifiable crumbs at the camera. “Why—are you under arrest?”
“No, there’s just a lot of security here. It’s a military base in the middle of the desert, so I can’t just wander in and out. Would you be a sweetie and check up on Ed—make sure he’s okay?”
“Oh hell, do I have to? He’ll be all right. Look, I don’t even like Ed Haas.”
“Please? I’m really worried about him,” she said—her voice cracking a little as she recalled the violent attack on her friend.
“All right, I’ll do it, but you owe me. Which hospital?”
“I don’t know. In fact, I don’t even know exactly where I am. Let me send through my GPS coordinates. You’ll have to check the nearby hospitals.”
Abe grumbled while she sent him her longitude and latitude.
“Got it,” he said through stuffed cheeks. He tapped at his keyboard for a few moments. “Damn near the middle of nowhere. That’s . . . hey, wait a minute . . . you’re at Hotel Uncle Sam!”
“You’ve heard of this place!”
“Oh, come on, it’s legendary. Have you tried the canard à l’orange?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, tell me if it’s as good as they say.” He shoved himself back from the computer and gave a spirited yawn. “Look, Dee, I have to go pass out for about ten hours. But you shouldn’t be there all by yourself.”
“I’ll be fine. Just remember to check on Ed.”
“I’m serious—you’re swimming in the shark pool, without a cage.”
She plucked a chocolate truffle from the bowl beside her bed and began idly unwrapping it. “All part of a day’s adventure for a globe-trotting cryptographer,” she said lightly and popped the truffle into her mouth.
Abe shook his head and hung up.
Chapter 3
Dinner was a memorable affair. The star course of the long meal was not canard à l’orange but Lobster Newberg, and it was exquisitely prepared. The dining room was immense and opulent, the service polite and attentive, and no expense had been spared in the selection of wines to accompany each dish.
Dee counted twenty diners at the table, including, to her relief, several cryptographers and programmers she recognized. She lingered over the meal for a couple of peaceful hours, talking shop and exchanging banter. Meanwhile, at the head of the table, the general spent the meal immersed in quiet conversation with what appeared to be a small clique of insiders, none of whom she knew. John Henley-Wright sat at the edge of the group, listening gravely to their conversation and contributing little. Oliver arrived at one point to speak with the general, and Dee winced to see the bruise, burgundy-red and big as a saucer, that was developing on his head.
As soon as dessert and coffee were over, the general’s little group vanished through a locked and guarded door, taking John with them. Dee was a bit disappointed. The Englishman seemed a somewhat softer target than the rest of them, and she had hoped to pry some information from him.
As the other conferees were trickling into the ballroom, Oliver approached Dee with an update on Ed’s condition: he was still in a coma and receiving the best of care at an Army hospital in Phoenix. His wife had been notified and was on her way to be with him. Dee was curious about the hijackers, but she knew better than to ask. They weren’t threatening her life so they were no longer any of her business.
Despite all the comforts and luxuries, the windowless concrete interior was making her feel closed in, so she decided to take a walk outside. While the others—all men—were settling into the comfortable leather furniture in groups of three or four with brandy snifters and cigars, she slipped out of the ballroom.
To her mild surprise, the guards standing watch at the big steel door didn’t stop her from leaving the building. After all, she wasn’t a prisoner. One of them even held the door for her and gave her a polite nod as she stepped outside into the rapidly cooling desert air.
Just a few steps beyond the security lights of the big concrete building, she found herself in a sweeping, eerily beautiful landscape, breathing in crisp clean air and the tangy scent of sage. Overhead, the Milky Way stretched out like a billion powdered diamonds, and a crescent moon hovered over a butte on the horizon.
For ten minutes or so, Dee strolled along a little desert path just outside the glow of the security lights, in a state of mindless contentment. Then her thoughts turned to Ed, lying comatose in some hospital. Once again she felt a pang of guilt for ignoring the software she was beta testing for him: the personal avatar application code-named PAX 1.3 Beta.
“PAX is the most exciting project Endyne has ever undertaken,” Ed had told her a week ago, scarcely able to contain his excitement. “It’ll make us the biggest software company in the world.” The application was not yet ready for public announcement, but they needed a savvy outsider to take it out for a test drive in the real world—someone unfamiliar with the software. She had accepted a small fee from Endyne in return for a promise to interact with the program regularly over a two-week period. Ed had installed PAX 1.3 Beta on her electronics this morning, while they rode in the limo to the airport.
He had been so excited about it, his hands had trembled. “This is the only copy to leave the lab,” he told her. “If someone makes a copy of it off your computer, my goose is cooked.”
“I’m a cryptographer,” she reminded him. “No one can read my hard drive unless I let them.”
“Even so,” he said shaking his head. “You try explaining that to my boss.”
Dee paused on the starlit desert track, listening to the chirr of the crickets, and began digging in her bag for her Bluetooth insert. She slipped it into her ear. Her smartphone was inside the bag, and it was always turned on to receive phone calls. She spoke to it through the insert’s microphone, feeling a little foolish as her voice broke the silence of the desert night.
“Can you hear me?”
No reply.
“I’m speaking to the software on my smartphone, um, to PAX 1.3 Beta. Can you hear me?”
“Hi, Dee. What can I help you with?”
She jumped a little at the voice in her ear. It no longer sounded like a cartoon character. It had turned into a reasonably good simulation of her own voice—a bit clipped and halting, with stiff, mechanical inflections, but close enough to be startling. She laughed a little, pleasantly surprised. It made sense: the whole purpose of the app was to serve as a virtual personal assistant. Ed had said it used adaptive fuzzy logic to gradually emulate its owner, in order to take over more and more electronic chores.
“Weird,” Dee said. “It’s like talking to myself.”
“I don’t understand the command. Would you like to hear a menu?”
She started walking again. “Yes, give me a command menu, please.”
The voice in her ear began reciting an impressively long list of activities: placing phone calls, checking e-mail, browsing the internet, writing memos, on and on. One of them piqued her interest. “Let’s try real-time translation.”
“Okay, Dee. What language would you like?”
“Um, Spanish.”
“Bueno, español.”
“Wow, that’s great! It’s my own voice speaking Spanish!”
“¡Eso es genial! ¡Es mi propia voz hablando en español!”
“How do I get to the train station?”
“¿Cómo puedo llegar a la estación de ferrocarril?”
“I think grandma has wandered off again.”
“Creo que la abuela se ha extraviado de nuevo.”
“We often find her hanging around train station bars.”
“A menudo encontramos a su merodeando por los bares de estaciones de tren.”
Dee laughed out loud. “Let’s do German next.”
“Ja, Deutsch.”
“To be or not to be, that is the question.”
“Sein oder Nichtsein, das ist hier die Frage.”
She spent the next hour kicking along the sandy paths in the vicinity of Hotel Uncle Sam, playing with the app’s long list of functions like a child with a new toy. During that hour, she developed the practice of addressing it as “Beta” for short. She was astounded at how quickly and smoothly it adapted to the habit without prompting or instruction.
She was wandering behind the scrubby hill on the west side of the building, where it was particularly dark, and she was so absorbed in reciting poetry that she had learned in college, and then listening to it echoed back in Swahili, that John caught her by surprise. When he greeted her from barely an arm’s length away she nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Oh, dear,” he said. “I hope I didn’t give you a start.”
“Are you kidding? You could give a girl heart failure that way—or get yourself pepper-sprayed.”
“Was that Eliot you were reciting? You’re a bit of a romantic, what? Decanting poetry under heaven’s starry vault and all that bit.”
“I thought I was alone,” she said.
“Well. There you have it. I rest my case.”
Dee opened her mouth to explain about the beta testing and the Bluetooth insert but decided to skip it. She looked John up and down in the thin light. He was wearing a smoking jacket with an ascot. She had never seen a straight man wearing an ascot before. He seemed to be pulling it off admirably.
“Were you looking for me?”
“No. No, of course not. Well, I suppose in a certain sense. That is to say, yes. I came out for a bit of air and saw you walking up and down in the lonely night and thought it would be only decent to come exchange the usual formalities.”
Dee arched an eyebrow at him, a gesture undoubtedly lost in the starlight. “Well. That was very neighborly of you. I thought you were off in closed chambers with the general.” She began moving toward a better-lit area, and John fell into step beside her.
“I was, briefly. I gather you don’t know the general. So, who invited you to the party, if I might ask?”
“That would be Ed,” she told him.
“I see. The poor chap in a coma. That was a rather nasty business today. I should imagine your nerves must be quite shattered.”
“I doubt I’ll get any sleep tonight,” she admitted. “Especially in that big concrete tomb.”
Now that they were back in the glow of the security lights, she could see John’s face as he gave the immense building an appraising glance. “Yes, it is rather sepulchral—but at least it’s a tomb with all the amenities. It would be hard to find a more comfortable place on earth to catch a few winks, if you put your mind to it. Tomorrow, as you know, will be a busy day.”
“I’ve got some sleeping pills in my bag. Maybe I’ll take one tonight.”
“You must admit, though, it’s rather flattering to have them throwing so much money at us. Rather makes one feel wanted, doesn’t it? I must say, you American taxpayers are a sporting lot.” They walked on in silence for a moment. “Have you worked for the NSA before?”
Dee hesitated, nonplussed, and blew a stray lock of hair away from her eyes. “Have you?”
“Oh, dear! I suppose that sounded like prying. But to answer your question, yes—yes, I have. There, does that make it your turn?”
She shot him a glance. His smile may have been a bit patronizing, but it was too charming to take offense at, so she let it pass. “Sure,” she admitted. “I’ve done decryptions for them over in Maryland, but nothing like this.”
John stopped on the trail, obliging her to turn and make eye contact. “I shouldn’t have thought so. These sorts of affairs—General Grimmer’s little shindigs—are perhaps not really your cup of tea.”
She frowned and stared for a few moments into his deep brown eyes, trying to read him. Somewhere close at hand, a burrowing owl gave a series of muted calls, an eerie sound in the empty landscape.
“Are you trying to warn me off the project?” she demanded.
“That’s putting it a bit strongly, I should think.”
“Well, if you’re trying to tell me something, why don’t you just cough it up?”
“I say! There’s no call for getting all pipped.” His hand wandered up and adjusted his ascot.
“If we’re asking questions, I have one for you. What do you know about UMBRA?”
“Who?” He grinned unconvincingly, not quite meeting her eyes.
Dee stopped and put her hands on her hips and gave him a suspicious stare.
“See here,” he said in a whisper. “This is neither the time nor the place.”
Dee looked around them. “I can’t see why not—we’re standing in the middle of a desert!”
“Oh, dash it!” he groaned. “Don’t you know that even the cactuses have ears?”
“There’s no one listening—not unless you’re wired for sound. Here, let me help you get started. General Grimmer and his men represent some kind of secret-ops group with NSA affiliations. No one knows what they do, and yet they seem to have access to limitless funds. They need a code protocol for God knows what reason, and most of us on the project will be expected to play our little roles, collect our fat paychecks, and forget we were ever here.”
John frowned as if he were observing a distasteful breach in etiquette. “Why must American women be so frank about everything? But yes, I’d say that pretty much covers matters, the last point being particularly important.”
“The part about keeping my mouth shut—unless I want to be found dead in a ditch somewhere?”
He wrinkled his nose at this turn of phrase. “I don’t think such people are actually found, don’t you know.”
“So what are you doing here, Mr. Henley-Wright? Exactly what sort of security specialist are you?” Before he could answer, she added, “And why are you following me out here in the darkness and making vague threats?”
“Oh, really, you are going too far. Surely you’re not implying I’m some kind of professional thug?”
Dee dropped her fiery gaze, feeling suddenly chastened. Because, in fact, she didn’t think anything of the kind. “Sorry,” she muttered. “But you are a little hard to place. No offense.”
“Very well, none taken.” With a little smile and a nod, he appeared to put the matter behind them. They began to stroll again, skirting the rim of light that surrounded the building.
“Listen, my friend,” he said, “You really should avoid any sort of loose talk. Someone in your profession must surely understand. I take it you haven’t signed anything binding yet?”
Dee shook her head.
“Then, if I may strain the decorum of our brief acquaintance and give a piece of unsolicited advice, why not sit through the next thirty-six hours and attend the various presentations and discussions without contributing much comment. Then decline to sign anything obligating, and fly off into the sunrise on Monday morning—and never come back.”
Dee gave him a shocked look. “Well . . . thank you for the advice. I think.” He seemed to be quite serious about warning her off the contract.
“Good,” said John, taking her hand briefly and formally. “I have enjoyed our little chat, but now I must toddle off to bed. Jetlag summons.”
“Goodnight, then. I’m sure I’ll see you at the breakfast briefing.”
“Yes, yes.” And setting off toward the steel door, he called back over his shoulder, “Let the games begin!”
Chapter 4
Dee was sitting in the dim moonlight on the low hill facing the south side of the building, perched on a slab of mica between a prickly pear and a catclaw bush, her chin propped glumly in her hand. She had been trying to brace herself to go back to her room and lie down, but the thought of the steel door slamming behind her, sealing her into the bunker for the night, was too depressing. So here she was, idly snooping to kill the boredom, watching vague shapes move in a half-dozen little squares of light—the only windows on this side of Hotel Uncle Sam.
“I guess these must be the luxury suites.”
“Nämä on ylellistä huonetta.”
“I wonder which one is mine.”
“Ihmettelen, kumpi on minun.”
“Okay, Beta!” she said. “Enough with the Finnish. Why don’t you power down for a while and save the battery.”
“I am entering standby mode. Goodnight, Dee.”
“Goodnight, Beta.”
Counting off three rooms from the southeast corner, where she figured the bend in the corridor must be, Dee calculated which suite was hers. A small gleam of light angled across the darkness of the window from the inside, suggesting that the room was occupied. She thought about the corridor again, and then she was positive. Third door on the left.
Curiosity got the better of her so she stood and shouldered her bag, brushed fastidiously at her pants and jacket, and padded down the barren hillside to approach the window. This side of the building was poorly lit, so she had to watch her step. Her feet felt their way delicately among the rough, angular rocks. When she reached the window, she stood on tiptoe to peek in over the thick concrete sill.
It was dark inside, but something was twinkling brightly beyond her range of vision. She could hear muffled thumps and dragging noises, as if someone were trying to clean the place at double speed.
She was beginning to think that spying at a military base might not be a good idea when the beam of what could only be a small but powerful flashlight swept across the center of the room, and she gasped as she recognized her luggage. It was her room, and someone was in there, going through her things.
Looking around to confirm nobody was watching, she pulled herself up off the ground an inch or so, gritting her teeth with the effort as she struggled to gain a better view. A moment later she was rewarded.
