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Zack cocked his head in surprise. “Lourdes is the name of the old Soviet SIGINT base. It’s called the University of Information Science now. He owns one of the dozens of buildings there. It’s called Hinton Labs, Havana.”
Pace didn’t miss a beat. “What’s going on at Hinton Labs, Havana?”
“Research. I go every day. Just sixty computer geeks sitting at their desks working on shit.”
“What shit?”
“How would I know? Look, Pace, I’m a bodyguard. That’s it. Anton’s got everyone on his staff going through some code they found in the cloud. But I don’t know if Anton’s completely full of shit. And I don’t care. I’m here to keep him alive, and just for the record, so far, I’m kicking ass.”
Pace said, “Your employer’s name was on a handwritten list made by one of the victims and discovered after his death.”
This took Zack by surprise. “And?”
“And…there are eleven other names on the list. Eight are dead, one is a Chinese scientist that we have no way of tracking down inside China, one is an AI expert in Boston who is still alive, and the other is Hinton.”
“What’s the connection?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out. All of the others worked with military applications in some capacity. But not Hinton. Why would he be included on that list?”
Hightower turned to him. “You’re saying you think Anton might be behind it all?”
“No, I’m definitely not saying that. But I want to know what you think.”
Zack let his frustration show now. “Jim, are you just out here trying to Scooby Doo your way through this shit?”
Pace sipped his drink. “Yeah. Pretty much.”
“Anton’s not your guy. He reads religious texts, he listens to music, he takes ice baths and saunas. He visits his AI lab, but I’m right there by his side when he does, and he’s not sending kill teams out on strike missions, he’s talking about computer code and neural networks and algorithms and a bunch of other shit that’s Greek to me.”
Pace seemed to think this over, and then he rapped the bar with his knuckles. “Okay. That’s all solid intel, Zack. Thanks.”
“I did not just give you intel on my employer.”
Jim Pace stood now. “No, you definitely did not. Good to see you, Sierra One. Stay frosty out there. Whatever is going on…it’s still going on.”
“Thanks for the advice. If I can give you some advice, maybe tell your boys out there to wear some local clothing next time. Looks like a fucking IBM convention just rolled into Old Havana.”
They shook hands, but there wasn’t much warmth between them. Pace started to turn away, but then he turned back, a finger in the air. “Speaking of the guys from the Company…I heard some interesting news about an old colleague of ours.”
Zack had finished his beer, but he continued sitting on the stool, not wanting to leave at the same time as Pace. In a bored tone he said, “Who?”
“Court Gentry.”
Zack gave nothing away, but his mind was racing. What the fuck does Pace know about Gentry?
He waved to the bartender, ordered another drink despite his earlier plan. “What’s ole Sierra Six up to these days?”
“Blowing up robots in Mexico.”
Zack blinked hard. When Pace didn’t elaborate, he recovered, said, “Mexico’s got robots? Cool.” The beer came and he took a long sip.
Pace said, “Six somehow got himself mixed up in all these killings.”
“It’s definitely not because he’s a computer genius on the cutting edge of something revolutionary.”
Pace chuckled. “Says he was brought in to protect one of the targets, but got chased halfway across Central America by drones and mechanical dogs in the process.”
“He okay?”
