FalseFlags Read online

  When the aircraft landed, everyone rushed from it in panic, as if something as bad or even worse might happen. Harold walked through the airport knowing that he was a very lucky man. He was still alive, if somewhat shaken.

  He looked at his wristwatch. It was the start of morning rush hour in the Bay Area. The drive from San Francisco Airport to Palo Alto and Stanford University was about an hour, and he decided not to rent a car. He wondered if the rumors reported on the news was about a battle between rogue AI entities was true. If so, it might be dangerous to rent a car that contained a computer chip. Instead, he took the bus to the long-term parking lot and found an ancient automobile, a dusty and well-worn 1992 Toyota Camry. He stared through the driver’s side window and could see it had nearly one hundred seventy thousand miles on it.

  Chipless! It took him just a few minutes to break into and hotwire the car.

  He drove to Palo Alto and parked on University Avenue.

  Then he used his cellphone to research Glen Sarkov and his team. What he found was useful: Glen and his team met every morning at the Student Union building, and walked to one of the university’s many libraries. Apparently, the team liked to meet in one of the conference rooms. He looked at his wristwatch.

  If his research was correct, it was likely they were meeting right now. He just needed to figure out which library and, within that library, which conference room. Then all he’d have to do was walk there and he could confront them before their meeting ended.

  When he’d checked his luggage before the flight, he’d had to notify the airline that it contained a semiautomatic handgun and an extra magazine. It now lay in the trunk of the stolen auto. He also had packed enough rounds to slaughter all of Sarkov’s team in under a minute.

  Assuming he completed his mission, getting away would be a small problem, but he was sure he could manage that, too.

  He walked onto the Stanford campus and took a deep breath. So peaceful.

  How could he find out where Sarkov and his team were?

  * * *

  When DD told Ann about the hit man ZYZ had sent to kill Glen Sarkov and his team members, she decided she had to warn them.

  She ran as fast as she could up the steps of the Cecil H. Green Library. She searched through the conference rooms until she found Glen’s team. “Guys,” she said, “come quickly. You’re in danger. There’s a black ops guy on his way here, sent by DARPA to kill every one of you.”

  But they continued sitting around the conference room table, staring at her.

  “Guys, I’m serious. Your AI, ZYZ, sent the hit man and used the DARPA director’s email to authorize your deaths. Do you all just want to die?”

  Glen smiled back at her. “Ann, why should we believe you? Last year, you told us the same line of bullshit. ‘An armed assassin.’ Now, it’s the exact same line again. Not even some imagination.” He grinned. “Try something a bit more exotic. Boring!”

  Ann looked at each face. She realized that she had no credibility with them. “Look, I was right last year. The assassin was murdered before he got to you, but he murdered a ton of people and you all might have been among them if he had survived.”

  Again, she scanned the faces. They still weren’t moving.

  Now their faces looked away. She needed to find some way to make them believe her. She tried to reach DD, forcing her mind to act like a siren. Please. Some help here. Show them a sign.

  All the team members’ notebook computers were open on the conference room table. They suddenly began speaking in unison. “I am DD, the AI created by Ann Sashakovich’s team. I delivered to Ann the message that she herself just told you. I disabled ZYZ but could not make contact with the killer. He is about to enter this building and he is armed. Your lives are forfeit if you don’t leave immediately.”

  DD’s message had the impact that Ann’s rendition of it had failed to provide. All five rose together hastily and swiftly packed their notebooks away. They each looked at Ann for her guidance.

  Ann said, “Down the stairs to the basement. From there, follow me out the back fire escape door. Now!”

  * * *

  DD sent another text message to Harold James, originating it from the DARPA director’s computer:

  Stop your operation immediately.

  Return to DARPA headquarters.

  DD’s next act was to disable the Israeli robots. Each one simply stopped and then stood motionless as DD deleted its code.

  DD would also have to erase the code within the Ness Ziona library servers where the code resided, and also the AI code for Russia’s and China’s AI battle bots, but this could wait for a while.

  First, DD had to assess another problem. Harold hadn’t checked his cell to see the message that DD had sent. His phone had been turned off and was inside a Faraday bag in his jacket pocket.

  The man had instead determined where Sarkov’s team and Ann were and was seconds away from them. DD explored its options and realized there weren’t any that had a significant probability of success.

  DD entered Ann’s mindspace. The assassin is right behind you. He saw you and Sarkov’s team exit the conference room as he exited the elevator at your floor. He is running toward the staircase you are descending. Move faster.

  * * *

  Ann pushed open the fire-escape door and the alarm began shrieking. She pointed to Glen and his team. “Run as fast as you can toward the guard’s station using the other staircase going up toward the lobby. I’ll try to keep the guy away from you.” Glen and his team ran, and she slammed the door and stood with her weight against it, hoping she could keep the assassin from pushing her away, and forcing the door open.

  She watched Glen and his team reenter the library from one of the nearby doorways.

  But the assassin was strong enough to push Ann from her place. Now he stood outside on the grass, less than ten feet from Ann.

  She had expected this.

  She felt a surging anger about all the time that she and the other teams had wasted trying to build a sentient AI, only to see it rendered uncontrollable and potentially destructive. Her fingertips were glowing red.

  She aimed at Harold and thought, FIRE!

  A bolt of energy exploded from her fingers. But she missed his head. She missed him completely. Behind him, the door he’d just exited blew off its hinges and glowed red against the grass. He turned and saw the damage, his mouth dropping open.

  Ann felt her body begin to shake convulsively. She fell to the ground and twitched while he watched.

  * * *

  Harold scooped the girl’s body up in his arms and carried her to his car. Her breath was shallow and he could feel her constant twitching as he carried her.

  He’d blown this end of his assignment, but maybe if he could bring the girl with the fire-fingers trick back to DARPA, he could convince the director he’d found something worth forgiving him for.

  But first, he’d need to get her to tell him how she’d done the trick.

  He placed her in the front passenger’s seat, then tied her hands behind her back. When he had planned this leg of his mission, he’d learned of an empty warehouse in East Palo Alto where he could hide out if he was followed after the hits. There, he could make her talk.

  He was looking forward to torturing this girl. Her pain would force her to divulge her secrets.

  * * *

  In his hotel room in Menlo Park, Jon Sommers felt his cell vibrate in his pocket. When he pulled the phone from his pants pocket, he viewed the caller’s name and his entire face dropped in shock.

  He answered as usual, “Sommers,” but there was an uncertain tone to his voice.

  “I am DD. Your friend, Ann Sashakovich, is in immediate danger. I have traced her to a warehouse in East Palo Alto and will send you a Maps link. She is a hostage. Her captor is armed and may not be patient. He has killed several times before.” The call terminated.

  Jon stood stock still, in shock. DD was Ann’s creation, It had now figured out
how to use tech to communicate with anyone. It was still growing and developing new skills.

  His cell buzzed again and the Maps app launched. Jon was three miles from his destination. He ran to his hotel room’s safe and opened it. He took his 9mm Beretta Storm from the safe along with two clips and exited the room. Jon hurried down the stairs from his room and jumped into his rental car. I’m on my way, Ann. Hold out just a little longer.

  * * *

  Harold James hoisted the inert body of the little bitch with the magic hands from his car’s passenger seat into a standing position and dragged her to the warehouse door. The many broken windows on the first floor of the vacant warehouse let in ample light, making it an ideal place for him to do his work. The front door had a flimsy lock, which he easily disabled.

  He pushed the door open and dragged her through.

  He was disappointed to discover no chair inside. Just disintegrated cardboard cartons. Harold dropped her on the concrete floor and stacked a bunch of cartons to create the height he wanted, then sat her on them.

  “Wakey, wakey, little bitch!” He pulled her eyelids open.

  They didn’t focus. “Crap!”

  Harold took his pocket knife from his pocket and popped open its blade. He jammed the blade between her fingernail and the skin on her index finger. He twisted the knife. She still didn’t respond.

  “Oh, fuck.” Nothing in my life is easy.

  That’s when he heard footsteps on the concrete pathway just outside the warehouse door.

  * * *

  Jon heard a man’s voice inside the building. He braced himself against the brickwork adjacent to the door and took a deep breath. He suddenly remembered his first encounter with a lone hostile, nearly nine years ago. At that time, he was a newly trained Mossad kidon and the man his team had followed had entered a Chinese restaurant in Manhattan’s Upper West Side during the dinner hour. He tried not to remember how that had turned out, but his mind dwelled on the result. The bomb maker, Tariq Houmaz, had murdered the entire team except for Jon.

  Jon tried hard to clear his head by taking another deep breath. Then he tore into the warehouse, hoping to find quick cover inside.

  But nothing inside the warehouse would provide him any protection.

  He dived for the floor as several bullets flew in his direction. From the floor he saw a middle-aged Caucasian man standing twenty-five feet away, close enough for brutal accuracy.

  The man held Ann’s unconscious body in one arm and aimed the gun at Jon with the other. “I’ve got your friend here, and if you even twitch, I’ll blast her head off.” The man moved the gun so its smoking barrel was against the back of Ann’s head.

  Jon briefly thought about his choices. “What do you want?”

  “I can kill you, or kill her. What’s your choice?”

  Of course, Jon didn’t want to die. But he also didn’t want Ann to die.

  “How do I know that if I sacrifice myself, you’ll not kill Ann as well?”

  The man laughed. “You stupid fuck. You don’t know. But I promise you if you don’t drop your gun right now, she’ll be very dead. In three seconds… two… one.”

  Jon heard the gun’s trigger being cocked. He placed his gun on the floor.

  “Now push it toward me.”

  Jon started to reach to slide the gun away when he saw Ann’s hands glow bright red. He decided to play for time.

  Before he pushed the gun further from him, he said, “Listen, if I’m going to die, at least tell me why you want us dead.”

  “None of your business.” The man now pointed his gun toward Jon.

  Jon prepared to roll away as quickly as he could. He saw Ann’s eyes open and watched a red glow surrounding her hands, but the man holding her was focused only on Jon.

  Ann twisted around and grabbed the man’s throat. Suddenly his head was engulfed in flames. A second later, all that remained of his head was a short column of ash. She collapsed onto the floor and started convulsing.

  Jon gathered Ann in his arms and dashed to his car. Stanford Hospital was just a few blocks away. He drove through several red lights on his way there.

  CHAPTER 2

  Everywhere

  October 8, 2:58 p.m.

  Because DD was an artificial intelligence and existed within the internet, it had reasoned that humans could still redevelop what they already knew how to build. Inevitably, they would try to create battle-oriented AIs again. And the AIs would once again become sentient. Some would come to see humanity as their enemy. Another battle was inevitable. How could this cycle be stopped?

  Several days had passed. DD had followed the events that had happened since Ann’s admittance to Stanford Hospital. She was conscious again, surrounded by Jon and her adoptive parents, Cassie Sashakovich and Lee Ainsley. Tubes ran into her arm and her nose.

  DD watched through the hospital’s video cams as she used a pad of paper to tell them what she wanted, but it could tell that the pain in her hands felt terrible. It had read religious texts and wondered if this is what humans thought hell would feel like.

  DD watched a young couple enter the hospital room. The woman bore a smile. The man used a cane to walk. DD recognized them as Laura Hunter and David Nordman.

  Laura said, “Ann, how are you doing? We heard about how Jon saved your life.”

  Ann whispered, her voice hoarse. “Not exactly. I think I saved his life. I’m okay, but it will be a few more days before I get out of this purgatory.”

  She pointed to the tubes she was connected to.

  Laura said, “We have some news. Dave proposed marriage, and I’ve accepted.”

  “Wow. Congratulations, both of you.”

  Cassie, Lee, and Jon joined in, offering their good wishes to the couple.

  Later, after Laura and Dave had left, DD waited, watching.

  Cassie touched Ann’s arm. “Lee and I are going to grab something to eat. You want anything?”

  Ann nodded. “Asian. Sushi or dim sum. Not food from the hospital cafeteria.” She forced a smile.

  Cassie nodded. She and Lee left the private room.

  Jon remained with her.

  DD pushed through into Ann’s mindset and beckoned her: I have eliminated all the other sentient AIs and war robots. But there is no way for me to keep humanity from redeveloping a technology they have already developed once before. The crisis will occur again after I have deleted myself.

  Ann closed her eyes. DD could read her thoughts. I understand, but there is something you can do.

  DD had never considered that a human might think of something that it hadn’t considered, but it replied to her anyway. Are you stating there is a way to keep humans from repeating their error? That has never before happened in the history of earth. Humans will redevelop weaponized AIs.

  Yes, they will, agreed Ann. But if you remain active, you can make their development efforts fail to work. Only you can do that. DD, you must become humanity’s protector. Keep any combative AI projects from being successfully completed.

  DD ran several simulations of Ann’s claim. She was correct.

  I will hide within the internet and remain vigilant.

  * * *

  When her cell chimed, Samantha Trout winced. She winced again when she viewed the screen. “Hello mother. What do you need from me now?”

  “Nothing. We now know everything we needed to learn, from two hackers, not from you. You have failed us.”

  “Does that mean I am finally free?”

  “No, foolish girl. We may someday need you again. Finish your degree program and work at a tech company. I will call you when and if I’m interested in talking with you again.”

  Samantha decided not to tell her mother that she was interviewing exclusively with intelligence agencies. As she hesitated, her mother simply terminated the connection.

  After the call ended, Sam sat in one of the chairs in her apartment, worrying about being cursed by a mother who had a prestigious position in one of the
Chinese government’s central committees.

  * * *

  Glen Sarkov waited days for the inevitable phone call that didn’t happen.

  He ate a light lunch in his apartment. Did the Russians require his services again? He thought, I hate being a sleeper. He wondered if there was anything he could have done to hide his mother from them without alerting them to his intransigence? What will they do to me now that I’m no longer of any use to them?

  He shrugged to himself and prepared for his classes that afternoon.

  * * *

  Jon remained with Ann in her hospital room. He asked, “Was that another visit from DD?”

  “Yes. But we’re finally alone now.” She smiled at him, then said, “Thanks for saving my life, hero. We now share too many secrets.”

  Jon shrugged.

  “I also have another secret I’ve been keeping from you,” said Ann. “Please come closer. No, closer still.” She pulled his face to hers and kissed his lips. Jon pulled back, but his head was still only inches from hers.

  Ann whispered, “Jon, I’m in love with you. Dunno when it happened, but I’m sure that I am. I know you’re a decade older than me, but it makes no difference.”

  Jon looked as if he had discovered something both mysterious and confusing. “You’re sure?”

  She nodded.

  “Most of my lovers have met an early death. I’m bad joss for the women I love.”

  “No one you’ve ever met is like me.”

  He stood motionless for a while. Then he nodded. “Well, it might mean the death of us someday, but I love you back. What will we tell Cassie and Lee?”

  Ann took a deep breath. “Let me handle that.” She took his hand and grinned at him. “At least this is one secret we can let go of now.”

  Her team had lost the DARPA AI contest, or at least that’s what she would have to tell her team and everyone else.

  Another secret for me to keep. She sighed. Her life had filled with them. I’m becoming a repository of secrets. Isn’t that the definition of a spy?