Chapter 59
Juan dashed into the research lab, where he was greeted by his two enthusiastic techno-wonders standing by the oversize computer monitor. They insisted he come down to the lab rather than give him the results over the phone.
“We got it, Chairman,” Eric said, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
“How?”
“Steganography!” Murph blurted out. “Dang clever. Embedding LSBs into a matrix of—”
Cabrillo raised his palm to Murphy like a traffic cop, cutting him off mid-sentence.
“Forget the sizzle. Just give me the steak.”
For years Juan tried to discipline his young techno-turks to cut to the chase in their briefs. He understood their youthful enthusiasm helped fuel their intense and relentless curiosities, which, in turn, produced actionable results. But there wasn’t time for any of their nonsense today.
Eric held up the camera’s memory card.
“Bottom line, Eidolon embedded his coded message on this. We’re sure it’s what he wanted to trade Overholt for his life.”
“And what is that message?”
Eric and Murph stepped aside, revealing the computer monitor. They had enlarged the text for easy reading. Juan stepped closer to it, leaning on the desk.
The Baktun is a civilian oceanic research vessel operating as an advanced software and hardware research lab for an AGI-powered organoid computer known as Project Q.
This secret project is funded by the billionaire cartel boss Amador Fierro and headed up by Dr. Anima Bose.
Fierro plans on using AGI to seize control of the U.S.
energy grid and to expand his criminal empire.
Project Q is scheduled to launch at 11:00:00 three days from today.
Juan’s mind reeled with the horrifying possibilities.
“If Fierro seizes the energy grid, he could knock it down completely whenever he wanted to. That would disable ninety percent of the U.S. population within days.”
“It’s worse than that,” Stone said.
“How?”
“For starters,” Murphy began, “the Fierro organization will be able to completely secure their communications. That means no more signals intelligence, no more tapping phones or email or texts.”
“And if they maintain AGI supremacy,” Eric said, “they’ll soon disrupt, corrupt, or exploit all law enforcement surveillance programs, local and national intelligence, and personnel files, counterinsurgency ops—you name it. AGI will afford them nearly perfect offensive and defensive capabilities.”
Cabrillo stood erect. “It’s a world-class disaster. We can’t allow La Liga to acquire this technology.”
“Or anybody else,” Murph added. “Criminal, political, or military.”
“We’ve got to capture it for ourselves,” Eric added. “Think of the advantages that would give to our country. Our economy would dominate the planet. Our military would be invincible.”
“Did Eidolon’s file indicate the Baktun’s location?”
“No, sir. He said it was an oceanic research vessel,” Murph said. “That makes it a deepwater ship, which, come to think of it, makes a lot of sense. The ‘vasty deep’ is a pretty good place to hide from the rest of the world.”
“It said three days from now. When was that text recorded?”
“Yesterday. So two days from today.”
“That’s not much time to search the world’s oceans for an unidentified boat,” Eric said.
“But we know it’s Fierro’s boat,” Cabrillo said.
“He’s not going to tell anybody where it is.
But I’d bet credits to navy beans he’s heading out to it now.
He’d want to be there when Project Q launches.
And that explains why he wasn’t at his place in Colombia.
” He turned to Eric. “You said he was there, right?”
“No question about it.”
“We must have spooked him when we showed up. He’ll need an airplane to get to his boat if he’s in a hurry.”
“Maybe he had one hidden somewhere close by,” the Oregon’s helmsman said.
Murph nodded. “We could hack into regional air traffic control. Find any airplanes traveling from his location around that time last night.”
Eric shook his head. “That’s a lot of airspace to cover. And no telling what he’s flying.”
“He’ll need something with a lot of range,” Juan said. “Either he left Colombia with that kind of aircraft or he’s flying to a location where there is one.”
“Still doesn’t narrow things down,” Eric said.
Cabrillo headed for the door.
“I’m confident you two can handle it. I’ll notify Overholt, then brief Max and Linda.”
“We’re on it,” Murphy said.
“See you boys in an hour.”
“It might take longer than that,” Eric said.
Juan turned around. “If it does, Fierro wins—and the world is doomed.”
★
Eric and Murphy were seated again at their joint computer terminal. The long minute hand on the analog wall clock had already devoured three minutes.
“How much energy do you think it would take to power up a boat like the Baktun?” Eric asked. “Especially for the kind of research work they’re doing.”
Murph scratched his wispy beard. “Depends on exactly what they’re doing, but my guess would be a lot.
Just training large-model AI requires megawatts of electricity—enough to power a small town.
That’s why Microsoft recently signed a deal to resurrect the nuclear reactors at Three Mile Island.
And the Baktun’s energy source would have to be both continuous and stable, especially for the organoid components. ”
Eric snapped his fingers. “That boat we tangled with—the demon ship? I bet it was gobbling up a ton of power. AI-powered weapons, multiple platforms, cloaked…probably high speed, too.”
“If I were building the world’s first AGI computer on a ship-based platform, I’d do everything I could to protect it. And I’d put it out in the middle of nowhere. So, yeah. It makes perfect sense. The Baktun is our demon ship.”
“That means we need to focus our radar search for an aircraft headed into the Pacific,” Eric said. “And not just the Pacific, but that dead zone in the east where we had our gunfight.”
“How far out?”
“At least a thousand nautical miles. Could be farther out, or maybe the Baktun will come in closer for the rendezvous, depending on the range of the airplane or helicopter Fierro’s using.”
“We might find a few ships out there, but I doubt we’ll find any private aircraft. I mean, except for someone highly motivated to go out there.”
“You mean motivated like Fierro?”
“Why don’t we just call the Navy?” Murph asked.
“And tell them what? ‘Please deploy your scarce resources in search of an unidentified boat we think might be in the Pacific and board or sink her for no legal reason?’ And all based on a criminal hacker’s photograph of an orchid?
The Navy would never go for it. Neither would POTUS, especially on such short notice. ”
“I guess that just leaves us,” Murph said. “Even though most of what you said applies to us, too.”
Eric nodded. “You know what Cabrillo always says. Our mandate is to color outside the lines, especially when our country is under threat.”
“Better grab our crayons, then.”
★
Murph and Stone got to work, brainstorming a plan of attack to find the Baktun.
The earliest Fierro could have taken off from a field near his mansion was twelve hours ago.
That was enough time to fly either directly to the Baktun or to an airport along Central America’s Pacific coast to refuel or acquire a different airplane.
Unless Fierro planned to parachute onto the ship, it had to be a long-range seaplane.
Now what?
“Trust the Cray,” Murphy said. The Oregon’s Cray supercomputer was one of the fastest pre-quantum machines on the planet, loaded up with every imaginable kind of software. It was the perfect tool for brute-force data acquisition and processing.
Eric hacked into regional air traffic control databases and downloaded twelve hours of radar and satellite tracking logs. These logs provided details like call signs, aircraft IDs, positions, altitudes, speeds, and headings. He and Murph then searched for seaplanes and found several in flight.
But one had lifted off from a private Nicaraguan airfield. The ShinMaywa US-2 was heading due west toward the dead zone, where the Oregon had once battled the Baktun.
The two researchers then tracked the US-2’s progress on the radar log. About two hundred fifty miles off Nicaragua, its radar signature vanished as it left radar range. Satellite tracking picked it up until about nine hundred thirty nautical miles, when its signal suddenly disappeared.
“What happened to it?” Murph asked. It wasn’t possible for the satellite to lose the signal. There weren’t any obstructions between the aircraft and low-earth orbit.
“He killed his transponder.”
“Why now?”
“Maybe because he landed.”
Murph dropped a virtual pin at the GPS location where the transponder shut off, and then drew a fifty-mile radius around it just as Cabrillo reappeared in the doorway.
“Time’s up, gents. What do you have for me?”
Remembering the steak and forgetting the sizzle, Eric pointed at the map pin and the fifty-mile-radius marker.
“We have Fierro’s type of aircraft and the approximate location of the Baktun.”
“That data is about two hours old,” Murph said. “Can’t guarantee he’ll stay put or that he’s even still there.”
“Let’s assume he is.” Cabrillo studied the map. “He’s out in the middle of nowhere—just about where we ran into the pirate vessel.”
He looked at the boys. “You think the Baktun is one and the same?”
“We do.” Both techs nodded, like telepathic twins.
“And I take it no other radar or other signals in the area?”
They both shook their heads. “No, sir.”
Juan gave an approving dip of the chin. “That’s outstanding work, gentlemen.” He threw a thumb over his shoulder at the analog clock behind him. “And with seven minutes to spare.”
Both men beamed with pride.
“You’ve busted your tails. Take a break and head to the galley and fill ’er up. I’m going to need you both shipshape and in Bristol fashion when we get underway.”
“Aye, sir.” They both stood to leave.
The two techs turned to go, but Cabrillo snagged Murphy by the elbow and pulled him aside.
“One more thing.”
“Sir?”
“We’re most likely headed for a gunfight. I need you to get your girlfriend off this boat for her sake, and yours. I need your head in the game.”
Murph nodded grimly. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“Get her packed and put her on the Joby immediately. I want her in San Salvador within the hour. I’ll have Linda make the travel arrangements. Any idea where she wants to go?”
“She told me she has an aunt in Toronto. But I’m not sure.”
“Then we’ll get her an open ticket. She can fly anywhere she wants. Tell her to bill us later for any expenses.”
“Thank you.”
Juan laid a hand on Murph’s slumping shoulder.
“Don’t look so glum, kiddo. You can catch up with her when this is all over and play all the kissy-face you want.”
Murph blushed. “It’s not quite like that.”
Juan winked. “Yet.”
Murph grinned hopefully.
“I’ll head up to her cabin right now.”