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Fitzroy sat deeper into his chair. “That’s just it. I know exactly who he works for.”
“How’s that?”
“I hear things. Lancer’s handler is also former MI5, like me. An expat, like me. A bit younger, but he’s running assets all over the world now.”
“I need a name.”
“And I’ll give it to you. The company is Lighthouse Risk Control Ltd., and the man’s name is Jack Tudor.”
Court had heard the name, but he knew nothing about the man. “Where can I find him?”
Fitzroy hesitated, then said, “Looking for Tudor, then looking for Lancer…it’s just going to bring you danger without reward.”
After a hesitation, Court said, “I need you to keep something close to the vest.”
“Yes, of course.”
Court told Fitzroy about Zoya, her “uncle,” and his warning about a dangerous new weapon. About the attempt against Zoya in Guatemala, the kill order given to the northern Guatemalan police.
“My God,” Fitzroy said when Court finished his story.
“I’m glad you seem to get it,” Court said, “because I really don’t.”
“Fully autonomous weapons operating at machine speeds change the entire paradigm of war. If one military possesses this technology, then any military that does not will be vulnerable. No, strike that. They will be bloody helpless. It has been said that the nation that controls artificial intelligence controls the future.”
“Then you see why Z and I can’t sit this one out.”
Fitzroy gave a long, deflating sigh. “Tudor lives in Mexico, on the coast in Yucatán. I speak with him from time to time. I believe him to be a reasonable man, his business notwithstanding.”
Court’s voice lowered. “I don’t need to reason with him. I need to put my hand around his fucking throat.”
“No, lad. Not Tudor. He’ll have security, he has walls and alarms and blokes and guns.”
“And I have me.”
Fitzroy shook his head as he stared at the iPad. “You can fight your way in if you have to, but I don’t think you have to.”
“Meaning?”
“I’ll talk to him on your behalf. There’s no need for belligerence on this. I’ll explain to him what’s at stake, and he will be reasonable.”
Court paused for several seconds. Finally, he said, “No. Sorry, Don. I’m not going to tip this guy off with a phone call. He could go to ground, somewhere I’d never find him. I need to be right there when he hears what I want from him, so that if he doesn’t comply on his own…I can provide some…encouragement.”
Fitzroy knew the younger man was right. He thought he could get Tudor to play along, but he was by no means certain. An idea occurred to him. “Speaking with him in person and in a professional setting, arranged by someone he knows and trusts, might be the safest and simplest way for you to approach this.”
“What are you saying?”
“Wherever you are in the world, if you can get yourself to Tulum, Mexico, then I will meet you there, and I will go with you personally to speak with Jack. I feel sure I can make the conversation happen both safely and productively, but if I’m mistaken…well…you will be there to force his compliance.”
After a pause, Court said, “You’d do that?”
“For you, lad, I would do anything. Give me twenty-four hours and a Signal number where I can reach you. I’ll call you when I’m in the air, and we’ll make arrangements to meet.”
Fitzroy jotted down the number Court gave him and then they said their goodbyes.
The Englishman ended the transmission on his iPad.
Looking down, he saw that the ginger tabby had finished his milk. The Englishman told himself he’d ring his closest neighbor and have him keep an eye on the cat while he was out of town.
