Chapter 22 #2
Then Volkov did something completely unexpected. Something even an elder statesman, a seasoned leader, might not have been able to do.
He ignored the personal attacks and said the only thing likely to throw the American off.
“Mr. President, while you and your friends have been building a ludicrous case against Russia, we’ve been looking into how those attacks were actually done. How the Chinese managed to drop every elevator worldwide.”
Pardington hated to cede the upper hand but now realized he’d never really had it. This young pup, if he had the information they needed, had held the higher ground all this time.
Still, he rallied. “We know how. It was AI.”
Volkov laughed. “You old shits blame everything on AI. Only because you don’t understand it. It’s either AI or cryptocurrency. Or, worst of all”—his tone was unmistakably mocking, patronizing—“AI paid for by cryptocurrency.”
Pardington was silent. Waiting for the next slap. No use defending himself. Volkov was not wrong.
“AI is a stepping stone, a gateway,” said Volkov.
“To what?”
“To what’s next. To what the Chinese have developed and weaponized.”
“Go on.”
“No, I don’t think I will. Not until you apologize for what you said.
Not about me, I don’t care about that. I care about Russia.
You have attacked us, in words. And threatened direct action next.
We have done nothing wrong. We have lost tens of thousands of people in this horrific attack.
Including my own uncle. We have stood ready to help.
Reached out to you. Offered our condolences on your losses.
And you say nothing about ours. And now you treat us as enemies.
I have waited all afternoon for your call.
But there was silence. No. Say you’re sorry, and I will tell you how the Chinese have done it. ”
Pardington knew when he’d been beaten. This was not the time to bluster. And while demanding an apology sounded childish, they both knew it had real power. To disarm.
How many wars would have been stopped, even avoided completely, had there been a sincere apology?
“I am sorry, Mr. President. It was wrong of me.”
“Good. Thank you.”
Volkov seemed sincerely relieved. He clearly did not want a war with the West.
“Ask your people about APAI and blockchain. The supply chain. That’s how it’s being done.”
Vivien stepped toward her, but Alice backed up. Had her father not reached for her, she would have fallen into the pit.
She shook him off. All sorts of things clustered in her brain, fighting to make it to her mouth. Until one finally made it.
“You’re alive?”
“Shi.” He moved toward her.
“Stay away from me.” She turned to Vivien.
“You told us he was dead. You let Kevin and me think our own father had died.” She looked at Liu now, struggling to accept that the man she’d mourned for so long was standing before her.
“You’ve been alive all this time and never contacted us? You let us, me, believe you were dead?”
“I’m sorry.” He reached out his arms. But this time, her heart and her head had aligned and she didn’t move.
She was vibrating with anger. But she was also overwhelmed with relief. With a sort of mud-spattered joy.
This man she loved was alive. But this man had also let her grow up without a father. Had left her with unfathomable grief.
She was suddenly more afraid of him than the ones with the guns. Not that he’d hurt her physically, but that the terrible truth would be spoken, creating a wound that could never be healed.
That truth was that he’d left and let them think he was dead, had never contacted them, her, because he never loved them. Had never loved her.
When times were tough, when she’d been in pain, she’d imagine his arms around her. Imagined his jasmine cologne, his minty breath. She’d close her eyes and feel his ghostly heartbeat. But that was all gone, in a blink.
He was alive. But he never loved them. Never loved her.
“Why’re you here?” Vivien asked. Though her anxiety made the question come out harsher than she’d meant.
Alice laughed. The shock was turning into hysteria. “I came to rescue you.”
She felt herself getting giddy. Losing control. It was bubbling up inside her. Like vomit.
She pinched her thigh so hard she knew she’d caused a bruise. But the counterirritant worked. And there was another device she could use to tamp down the hysteria.
Focus on something else.
“What’s Pangu?”
“How do you know about that?”
“I heard just now. You said it’s responsible for what’s happening. You said you’d created it and now need to stop it.” She kept her eyes on her mother, not daring to look at her father. “You created a terrorist organization?”
“No. We created an earlier, gentler version.”
“Which is why you named it after the god of destruction?”
But they’d stopped listening to her, which drove her to the brink of apoplexy. Until she saw what they were doing. Vivien and Liu were looking up. Up, up the side of the concrete wall. To the long narrow window there. And the man looking down on them.
“Who’s that?” Even from there, he looked disheveled. Unshaven. A homeless man who’d wandered into this bunker.
“That is Wang Lai,” said her father. “He runs the MSS, the secret police.”
“He’s a friend of your father’s,” Vivien added, not without relish. “In fact, your father here is about to take over that job. Soon he’ll be rounding up anyone who speaks against—”
Alice raised her hand. “Enough! I get it. He’s a monster. And so are you. Together you created a monstrous organization, named after a monster. And now you are busy killing millions.”
The man at the window slowly shifted his gaze until his eyes met hers. There was intelligence there, but there was also something else. Something bright. Something burning.
“Oh, fuck,” muttered Alice. Another monster.