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“It’s good.”
Zack said, “I’ve been drifting. I need a task. You get it, don’t you?”
Wren drank more of his tea, and he looked deeply into Zack’s eyes. “I get it like few people could. I miss the certainty of the military, the straightforwardness of you and all your mates having the same objective.”
“Yeah.”
Wren smiled a little. “Wouldn’t say this to anyone else, but I can say it to you. Since I started working for Hinton, I know my mission. For the first time since I left the regiment. My mission is keeping him focused on his mission, even if I don’t completely understand it. And if that means shooting two Bulgarian bastards, then so be it. If it means catching a bullet for Anton, I’m ready to do that, as well, even though I’m not in security any longer. Anton is my mission, and that’s all there is to it.”
“Bad news, Wren. I’m the guy who gets to jump in front of bullets from now on.”
“Lucky boy. You willing?”
“We’re the same,” Zack said. “I need a charge, a responsibility. You give me that, and I might bitch about it, but in truth, I’m happy.”
“Brilliant,” Wren said, and then he finished his tea.
EIGHTEEN
Jim Pace sat in the sterile conference room in A-ring of the Pentagon, just across the Potomac from the Washington Monument. The third-floor space had a view of “the yard” in the center of the five-sided building, but Pace was too busy looking over his notes to enjoy the late spring afternoon.
The door opened and a man in civilian attire stepped in. Pace had met Lewis Reynolds a year earlier when Reynolds was an Air Force colonel, but now he was retired, working for the Defense Innovation Unit, the organization the late Rick Watt had led.
The men shook hands. Pace said, “Colonel, I’m really sorry about Director Watt.”
“Thanks, Jim. It’s been a crazy couple of days. How’s everything over at the proliferations desk?”
“I thought it sucked, frankly. But then I got my new tasking.”
Reynolds understood. “The AI killings, obviously.”
The two men sat down across from each other.
Pace said, “Watkins is sending me out to make inquiries. I understand you’re the new director of DIU.”
“Acting director. Even so, I’m glad you’re involved in this, and I’ll help however I can.”
“You knew Rick Watt well, from what I understand.”
“I did,” Reynolds confirmed. “The Air Force had me working with DIU for the last four years, and Rick and I became good friends.”
“I’ll start with the obvious question. Any idea who might have wanted to kill him?”
Reynolds looked surprised. “What is this, Dateline?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because why are you asking that? Of course I know. Everyone knows. It was the Chinese. From what I’m hearing, they used an American assassin, that Navy guy who caused such a stir way back, but still, the Chinese were controlling the purse strings, no doubt.”
“Why is there no doubt?”
“Because,” Reynolds replied, “Rick was a tenacious son of a bitch. He worked with all types of civilian companies to try to create partnerships with the DOD, but make no mistake about it—the vast majority of his focus was on acquiring AI technologies from private industry to be used by the U.S. military. He was hamstrung left and right by Congress, by the brass right here in the Pentagon, even by public opinion about AI. But still, he was fighting to bring our nation’s military into the future like no one else before him, and probably like no one else after him for a long time.”
“How so?”
“Artificial intelligence is the next military technical revolution, bigger than the invention of firearms, bigger than the invention of machine guns, bigger than aircraft…even bigger than nuclear weapons.”
Pace had heard this before, but he didn’t believe it. “What makes it bigger?”
