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Zack leaned back against the counter. “I’m around the dude all day. He’s not planning world domination, or whatever Pace thinks is going on down there.”
“It’s not him doing it,” Zoya said. “It’s some artificial intelligence he’s created.”
“No fucking way.”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense. We captured the drone pilot. Learned some things about the operation. Pace has an expert who thinks artificial intelligence is running this entire thing, all the killings, all over the world.”
Zack shook his head. “I can assure you that the attack on Anton the other night was perpetrated by people who were neither artificial nor intelligent.”
Court said, “This AI, called Cyrus. It’s picking the targets, hiring the assassins, providing logistical support, paying the bills, updating mission sets.”
Zoya said, “The expert says that there were maybe fifteen people on Earth who could have developed something like this—”
Zack interrupted, because now he understood. “And only one of them is still alive.”
“That’s correct,” Court responded.
“But…” Zack said, “who is out there trying to kill him?”
“What if the attack was staged?” Court asked. “What if both attacks were?”
“Anton took a bullet in his back plate, right next to me. How do you stage that?”
Court didn’t miss a beat. “You pull out a gun, aim at his back plate, and press the trigger.”
Hightower cocked his head. “You think I shot him in the—”
Court shook his head. “Of course you didn’t do it. You can’t shoot.”
Zack rolled his eyes. “I was there, you weren’t,” he said, and then, from nowhere, he relived the moment in his mind.
Jesus Christ, Zack thought. Back during the attack by the Jamaicans, Wren had his weapon out at the back of the restaurant, Zack had turned away, and when he looked back, both guards next to Wren lay dead, and Anton had been hit in the armor. Zack hadn’t been able to picture someone firing blind through the kitchen wall and causing all that precise carnage, but now he saw another possibility.
No one on the security force could have shot two men and then the armor of a third.
But Gareth Wren could.
Court obviously saw something on Hightower’s face. “What is it?”
Court didn’t know Gareth Wren and would have no way of knowing that the VP of operations for Hinton Labs was a former SAS Warrant Officer 1 who was so fucking good he and his troop had worked with the CIA on several Ground Branch ops in the war on terror. Wren was a fucking marksman with any weapon he held.
The three of them sat there in the dim light, just looking at one another.
Finally, Zack spoke. “The attack on Hinton here. It might have been a setup. A setup to fool me so I could convince the Agency it was legit. But…but why?”
Court said, “Think about it. If Hinton’s your boss, then he hired a former CIA officer as a lead security man for a reason. Why do you think that was?”
This was a lot for Zack to take in, but finally, he said, “To be the Agency’s inside man. To report back, when asked, that nothing was going on down here in Cuba. And to convince them that Hinton was being targeted by the same people who were targeting all the others.”
“They didn’t plan on the Agency figuring out it was all being run by AI,” Zoya said.
Chris Travers stepped up now. He’d been close enough to hear the conversation. In his hand he held a tablet computer. “Zack…we’ve been looking at Hinton’s facilities here.”
“You guys are going to hit it?”
“We don’t know yet. But we’re building a plan. Tell me about security at the campus.”
Zack sighed. “On the inside, a dozen men, all ex–Black Wasps. Some better than others, but all are good enough. Also static security inside, say a half dozen at any one time. Not the same caliber as the Wasps, but not terrible.”
