Chapter 15 Atticus #3
Liu discussed oceanographic data analysis and acoustic behavior through various mediums—all publicly available science.
But his examples kept nudging toward military applications.
He explained sound patterns in underwater environments using textbook equations, yet chose specific depth ranges and temperature gradients that anyone with submarine warfare knowledge would recognize as optimal for detection avoidance.
He discussed radar signal processing using civilian airport examples, while his “blind spot” discussions would resonate with anyone familiar with defense installations.
“Consider this theoretical problem,” he said, sketching a detection grid.
“If you needed to identify objects in a complex acoustic environment with these specific conditions…” He listed parameters that seemed random individually but would spark recognition in anyone who’d worked with certain systems.
The genius was in the ambiguity. Everything he said could be defended as an academic discussion.
But for those with clearances—and I counted at least six in the room—the implications were unmistakable.
He was suggesting research directions, highlighting which problems were interesting, guiding where curious minds might explore.
People took notes. Asked follow-up questions about theoretical scenarios that were anything but. Liu answered everything with plausible deniability built in.
“Of course,” he added after explaining optimal frequencies for avoiding certain detection methods, “these are just mathematical models. Real-world applications would require specific knowledge I certainly don’t possess.”
A few people exchanged glances—some confused, others comprehending.
During the break, Brenna and I stepped onto a balcony overlooking the gardens.
“He’s teaching them how to think about classified systems,” I said quietly. “Without technically revealing anything classified.”
“Giving them the road map without drawing the actual map.”
“Everyone in that room knows exactly what he’s really saying.”
“But proving it in court would be nearly impossible.”
Lunch was in the main dining room, with Morrison holding court.
He told stories about Silicon Valley’s evolution, each with subtle undertones about outdated regulations stifling innovation.
He never said anything explicitly illegal, but his message was clear: the real innovators found creative ways around obstacles.
“The best entrepreneurs I know,” Morrison said, “understand that competitive advantage comes from seeing opportunities others miss. Sometimes that means international partnerships others are too cautious to pursue.”
Castellano’s afternoon session focused on “Global Investment Strategies in Emerging Tech Markets.”
His presentation covered legitimate international finance, but with interesting emphases.
He explained how consulting agreements could be structured for maximum flexibility.
How international partnerships could benefit from certain payment structures.
How to evaluate whether foreign partners were “reliable” for sensitive collaborations.
“Due diligence is critical,” he explained, showing a slide about vetting international partners. “You need to know who you’re really working with. Their backgrounds, their other partnerships, their long-term interests.”
It sounded like standard business advice. It was also a primer on operational security.
“What about export controls?” someone asked.
Castellano smiled. “There are legal ways to structure partnerships that comply with regulations while still enabling meaningful collaboration. The key is understanding what’s truly restricted versus what people assume is restricted. Often, the perception of limitation is worse than the reality.”
Saturday evening brought cocktails on the terrace.
The fog had lifted, revealing the valley in golden light.
The cocktail hour had a different energy than Friday night.
People clustered in small groups, having intense but quiet conversations.
Morrison, Liu, and Castellano held separate courts, each surrounded by interested parties asking careful questions.
I watched Morrison work. He had a talent for reading people—identifying who was genuinely interested versus who was just curious. The interested ones got his full attention. The curious got charming deflection.
“Atticus, Bronwyn,” Morrison appeared beside us with fresh drinks. “Enjoying the summit?”
“It’s been enlightening,” Brenna replied. “Liu’s session hit close to home. My husband’s security work deals with similar challenges—finding patterns in complex data.”
“Ah, then you understand the complexities.” Morrison studied us. “The real innovations are happening at the intersections—where civilian technology meets, shall we say, more specialized applications. The key is finding the right partners who share your vision for what’s possible.”
“And how does one find these partners?” I asked.
Morrison smiled. “They usually find you if you’re working on something interesting enough. But these conversations are better had in private. Perhaps we could schedule something after the conference ends? I have a few thoughts about the security sector that might interest you.”
There it was. The approach we’d been waiting for.
After he moved on, Brenna touched my arm. “He’s vetting us.”
“Testing our interest without committing to anything.”
“The next meeting, whenever that takes place, will be the real evaluation.”
Dinner began with Morrison giving what sounded like an inspirational speech about innovation and global cooperation. He never said anything explicitly wrong, but his implications were clear—the future belonged to those willing to think beyond traditional boundaries.
“Silicon Valley’s greatest asset isn’t technology,” he concluded. “It’s the ability to see possibilities where others see obstacles. That’s what changes the world.”
The applause was enthusiastic. Morrison had successfully packaged something dangerous as something inspirational, and most of the room was buying it.
During the meal’s third course, Liu leaned toward Morrison, his voice carrying just enough to be overheard. “Our asset arrived unexpectedly. I need to meet with him after dinner.”
Morrison’s eyebrows rose. “Tonight? I thought he wasn’t available until next week.”
“Apparently, his schedule changed. He’s eager to discuss the expanded parameters we outlined. This is what we’ve been waiting for.”
The word “asset” sent a chill down my spine. In intelligence work, that meant one thing—a recruited source. Someone already working for them.
I caught Brenna’s eye and saw she’d heard it too. Her fingers tightened on her wineglass, and she gave me a single nod.
The words didn’t need to be spoken. We both agreed we needed to find out who this asset was.
Approximately thirty minutes later, when Liu quietly excused himself, we stood too.
Before we reached Morrison’s table, he got up and approached us. “Leaving so soon?” he asked.
“Yes, it’s been an intense but highly informative day,” Brenna said, covering her mouth when she faked a yawn. “And we have a long drive ahead of us in the morning.”
“Thank you for including us this weekend,” I said. “We’ve appreciated the opportunities presented to us.” I reached out to shake his hand.
“You’re most welcome. Regarding the opportunities you mentioned, I’d like to schedule another meeting. Privately. I’ll be traveling for the next week and unavailable, but perhaps once I return?”
“We’d like that,” said Brenna.
“Fabulous. I’ll have Patricia reach out with some possible dates and times.”
“Excellent, and thanks again,” I said.
As we walked away, I glanced back and caught Morrison watching us with an unreadable expression. When he saw me looking, he smiled and raised his brandy snifter.
We’d just reached the lodge’s front door when Kodiak approached. “What’s happening?” he asked.
“We overheard Liu say something about meeting with an asset tonight,” I told him in a low tone of voice.
“I noticed him leave a few minutes ago. He’s in one of the larger cottages—number nine. It’s not far from yours.”
“We’ll head that way now,” I said. “You get Emma and circle around from the opposite direction.”
“Roger that.”
We were rounding a bend, about to approach Liu’s cottage, when its door opened. We quickly hid in the shadows of the oak grove.
He emerged, checking his phone, then held the door open for another man, who hadn’t stepped out yet.
My heart raced when I heard Liu speak first. “I’ll have the transfer ready by morning. Ten million, as we discussed.”
“Great. The access codes will be in your hands first thing,” the other man replied. “Everything you need for the system architecture.”
“This partnership is going to be very profitable—for both of us. And your country thanks you for your service.” The words dripped with irony I could hear even from twenty feet away.
We watched Liu squeeze the other man’s shoulder as he stepped out where we could finally see him.
“My God.” The words on Brenna’s lips came out strangled. “That’s Luke.”