The Darwin Project Read online

  Frown lines crossed Karla’s face. “Oh, I hope not. My young brother is a member. He’s done some kind of law enforcement course with the American Eagles University and graduated with a diploma and badge that he thinks are so precious.”

  A faint alarm bell rang in Rick’s mind. There would be fences that Karla would not be able to cross. “Do you know which brownshirt chapter he’s working with?”

  “San Francisco. He was very excited when he saw our news reports on the bot assaults.”

  “We might be able to include a video on him, if you think it would meet Darwin’s approval.”

  “Darwin—he’s a real person, isn’t he?”

  “What? Definitely. Why do you ask?”

  “At first I thought he was too far over the top. But when he discussed setting up the television operation, he was surprisingly professional and very informed.”

  “Well, he’s exceptionally intelligent, I believe. He closely involved with Toby and also with Toby’s uncle. He prefers remote working, though. You saw how he likes the beach.”

  “I envied him, today. Perhaps we can visit him sometime?”

  “Perhaps. Let’s wait and get this all set up first, though.”

  “Sure. I want Travers TV to succeed.”

  Rick realized he should arrange a private meeting with Darwin and Toby sooner rather than later. He wondered if Karla’s involvement was likely to be to Toby’s detriment. He finished off the remainder of his beer and reached for another can.

  oOo

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It was mid-afternoon when Toby dropped a file of notes on his desk and said to Billie, “That’s it. I’ve interviewed the four investment portfolio managers and fired three of them and employed one. He’s starting work at the beginning of next month. I persuaded his employer it was in their interest to agree. He has to pass an FBI check first.”

  Billie grinned. “They’ll be calling you the axe man.” She was reading a flying magazine.

  Toby snorted. “God, I hope not. I’m only worried about Nate’s comments when I tell him.” Toby was still optimistic his uncle was alive.

  Billie did not comment.

  Toby said, “Want to go for a drive? I have three property addresses that might be suitable for Darwin’s body team. We can take Dr. Horikoshi; she’ll have final approval. We’re looking for four apartments and enough work space to do whatever they propose.”

  “I’ll check if she’s ready. Also, I’ll change.”

  Toby’s expression was questioning.

  “This blouse and my shorts hardly constitute my chauffeur’s uniform. We must keep up appearances, you know.” She dug him in his ribs as she walked past.

  Toby shrugged. “Darwin?”

  “Yes, Toby?”

  “Please contact the property agent and tell him we’ll be at the first property in about an hour. If we’re delayed, I’ll let him know.”

  “Yes, Toby.”

  He could hear the conversation in the background as he tidied his notes into their respective files. He wondered what Nate would say about his decisions.

  “Darwin?”

  “Yes, Toby?”

  “You heard I fired three of Nate’s investment managers?”

  “Yes and I consider you acted prudently. Nate will agree.”

  “Good. I’d like to discuss with you later how you or Bronwyn can help with future stock portfolio investments, with a longer term approach, not day trading.”

  “I’ll remind you this evening, after dinner. Oh, the property guy said he’ll be waiting for you.”

  “Good.”

  Billie was in the Tesla waiting with Dr. Horikoshi when Toby rushed out to the garage. He had spent time in documenting his decisions and reasons, both for his own future reference and for Nate. The task had taken longer than he expected.

  “Which property first, Sir Toby?”

  Toby provided the address, and Billie instructed the Tesla autopilot.

  Narumi appeared puzzled. “You are Sir Toby?”

  Billie laughed.

  Toby said, “No, I’m not. That’s an example of Billie’s sense of humor.”

  “Aah. Yes, I can tell, she has a well-developed sense of humor.”

  “Dr. Horikoshi—that is, Narumi, we are looking at three properties. You must tell me which one is most suitable for your team and your workspace. If none are suitable, tell me that, also.”

  “Yes, I understand. We don’t need very much, just enough for work purposes.”

  “As long as you and your engineers are comfortable.”

  “Indeed.”

  They were five minutes late for the first meeting; however, the property broker was also late. In Toby’s opinion, neither the building nor the area where it was located were suitable and he quickly said so.

  The broker checked the details of the other properties and said, “In that case there’s only one other to show you. Now I have a better idea of your preferences, I can refine my search.” He showed Toby the property details. “See, this will be a far better area.”

  Toby read the details. “Yes, the area’s okay. The building is not; that’s a dump.” He didn’t have time to be polite; the sooner the agent realized he had serious property needs, the better. He continued, “Why not check for two buildings? One containing apartments, the other, office space. We could use eight to ten apartments and ten thousand square feet of office space. They should be not too far apart; we don’t want a long commute. Let me know what you have.”

  The broker thought for a few moments. “Let me check with the office.”

  Toby nodded and waited while the man had a subdued conversation on his cell phone.

  “Mr. McIntosh, we have a development that is about to be released onto the market. The owner is intending to market the units separately; however, my manager thinks he would entertain an offer for the complete property. There are twelve units. Is that too many?”

  “No.” Toby drawled the word. “Show me details.”

  Twenty minutes later, both the broker and the Tesla with its passengers were headed to the property. On paper and according to the images shown by the broker, the apartments would be suitable. The next problem would be the offices, a problem readily solved, he hoped, once they had accommodation for their visitors.

  By the end of the day Toby had made an offer for the apartment building, which was in a gated block, and it had been accepted. In addition, they had seen two possible office buildings, not too far from the apartments, both of which could be suitable. At Toby’s direction, Billie headed the Tesla back to Bel Air.

  “You are decisive,” said Dr. Horikoshi. “But surely there are too many units for us?”

  “Don’t worry; I have other needs,” Toby said. “We’ll use two units for Drexel Security people. I want to ensure you are not unprotected. I’m also employing other people and they might need places to stay. In a year we’ll be looking for more, I guarantee.”

  Dr. Horikoshi nodded. “As long as expense is not just for me and my engineers.”

  “I assure you it’s not. I’m about to recruit more people.”

  Back in the study, Toby added the property details to his files. He consulted with Darwin and Bronwyn and within the hour, instructed Bronwyn to remotely organize the furniture and decoration of six of the new apartments. The advantage of remote working was that no one thought it untoward that they were being instructed via emails and telephone, never actually meeting their client. Before another two hours had elapsed, Bronwyn reported that details and costs were agreed, access to the apartments arranged with the seller, with everything to be completed by the time the property was in his ownership. He relaxed; at least he had resolved part of their requirements. Two of the empty apartments could be used for temporary office space. Drexel Security would utilize two of the furnished units. That, he thought, was enough involvement in property for the day.

  Toby discussed his management needs with Drexel. He intended to add a small
team to support him and wanted recruitment underway within a day or two. He also contacted Nate’s attorney, Reuben Jones, to see if he had recommendations; a lot of the tasks for his new team would require more than a little legal knowledge. By the time he’d finished his phone calls, he had received twenty resumes that he transferred to Darwin.

  “You know what I want. Run security and background checks on these people. If you identify anything questionable, delete the name from our active list. Select the best applicants as we’ve discussed. Let me know by tomorrow who you recommend. I’ll interview them as soon as possible. Drexel and the FBI can then do their criminal checks. I want the team in place within a week, even if I have to buy out existing contracts. Understand?”

  “Yes, Toby. I am interested in this task. I’ve already researched various resume evaluation techniques and will apply different processes to calculate scores. My recommendations and research results will be ready for you by nine a.m.”

  “Excellent. I’ll be at the pool if you need me.”

  He and Billie watched the cable news later in the evening. Dr. Horikoshi had retired, suffering slightly from jet lag. The talking heads were repeating a variety of messages about federal politics and economic conditions, adding minor news items for contrast or light relief.

  “Listen,” Billie said.

  Toby had been lost in thought and missed the beginning of the item. The newsreader was in mid-flow.

  “Law enforcement say they have no updates on missing scientist and philanthropist Nathan Travers. The spokeswoman for the FBI stated they suspect the reclusive billionaire has been the victim of an assault, perhaps a kidnap attempt, although no ransom demand has been received. Travers’ nephew, Dr. Toby McIntosh of Toby In The City fame, is his sole heir. Our sources within the FBI have provided us with details of a number of recent attacks on Dr. McIntosh by alleged members of the brownshirts. We asked George Flocke, the president’s national economic advisor and reputed commander of the brownshirts, for comment. We have not received a response. ACX Channel 21 reporters also have been unable to interview Dr. McIntosh. Keep viewing for updates. Next is our scheduled commercial break.”

  Toby was wide-awake. “Damn.”

  “I agree. You’ll be hunted by the media now.”

  Darwin said, “Pepper Mountain is the best place for you. This is one of the reasons Nate spent most of his time there.”

  “No. While we may have to move from this house, I want to remain in Los Angeles. This is my home town and we have too much to do here.”

  “Very well.” Darwin sounded grumpy.

  “Does Nate own other residences in the city?” Billie asked.

  “Darwin, do you know?”

  “Checking. Yes, he owns an apartment on Third; it’s located on the forty-first floor. Five bedrooms, all en-suite. It’s in one of the major chain developments. There’s a range of facilities, including gym and pool. It’s furnished; however, no one has lived there. I don’t know why Nate purchased it. The keys and documents are in the cabinet, drawer and file reference F-3-21D.”

  “We’re moving.” Toby was adamant. He opened the cabinet and searched for the file. “Here, these are the keys. Billie, contact Drexel; I expect he’ll alert his security team. We’ll move early in the morning. Dr. Horikoshi and Ellen will come with us. We’ll be far more anonymous with a downtown location.”

  oOo

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Rear Admiral Berkstow raised his head from the crossword puzzle and listened to the near altercation outside his office. As commander and Singapore area coordinator, based at Sembawang Naval Base, Singapore, he was responsible for US naval logistics, supply, and ordnance for a range of naval vessels and personnel for the 7th Fleet. His days were normally routine and he always commenced with a brew of tea and a quick read of the photocopied Times newspaper plus a dabble at The Times Quick Cryptic crossword puzzle; all were habits he’d developed as a result of his ten years in England. A small tea bot stood in the corner of his office, a muted red light flickering above its camera lens. The admiral slid the newspaper off his desk when one of his aides burst into his office. He was red-faced and breathless.

  “Admiral, sir,” the man said.

  Berkstow ignored the unorthodox entrance. “Yes, Roberts?”

  “Sir, Captain Frescoe is outside. He—he’s angry, sir. He’s unable to get to Changi.”

  Frescoe was Naval Intelligence, attached to the LCS fleet of four ships. The littoral combat ships were smaller warships intended for use in the littoral or close to shore zones around South East Asia including the South China Sea. The ships each carried a crew of fifty sailors and, according to notes Berkstow had read, one had an allocation of twenty bots as crew, with another fifty that could be deployed ashore as a small offensive force. He thought the small ship was fully autonomous, able to function completely without human crew members, although that was privileged information and probably the reason for the intelligence captain’s posting.

  Berkstow knew the captain only in passing and had not thought of him as a troublemaker. He said, “Show him in.”

  The captain, in civilian dress, entered the small office. He stood to attention

  “Captain.” Berkstow sipped his tea. “What can I do for you?”

  The captain was almost snarling. “Let me out of this base is the first thing. Provide transport to Changi is the second.”

  Tempted to chastise the younger office’s abruptness, Berkstow set his mug on the desk and stood. He was two inches taller than the captain. He frowned his displeasure.

  “I suggest you explain. Start by maintaining a civil voice.”

  Frescoe’s expression changed. “My apologies, sir. I’m due to catch a flight from Changi and for some reason I’m unable to leave the base.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Sir, the shuttle for Changi isn’t working—at least, it seems to be working, but when I get in it, the computer malfunctions. I’ve tried four other vehicles. None of them work. We—that is, one of your drivers—tried an older vehicle, a manual. It worked and we got as far as the exit gate. It wouldn’t open. I tried to walk through the pedestrian exit and that gate wouldn’t open. I’ve spent an hour this morning trying to get off your base. It’s critical that I catch my flight. I’m supposed to report to SECNAV and they’ll hand me my head on a platter if I fail to attend their meeting.”

  “Are you sober?”

  The captain straightened, his expression constrained. “Sir, I do not drink.”

  “Why didn’t you request assistance from one of my officers?”

  “Sir—” The captain was red in the face. “Sir, your officers were of no use. They either laughed or shrugged and walked away. I’ve recorded three instances of this uncooperative behavior.”

  The admiral jerked his head up. “Are you trying to cause trouble for my officers?” There was a touch of vindictiveness in his tone. Trouble for his officers would be trouble for him, too.

  “Sir, certainly not. However, if your base is unable to get me to Changi, what do you suggest I say to SECNAV?”

  “Come, there must be an explanation. We’ll check with my aides.”

  The admiral led the way out of his office. His three aides were head down, focusing on screens and files, as they tried to ignore their commander. An outer office held the rest of the admiral’s clerical staff.

  “Lieutenant?”

  One of the heads lifted. “Yes, sir?”

  “What do you know of the captain’s problem?”

  “Nothing, sir. That is, he explained it. Didn’t make sense, sir.”

  “Tell transport I want a car here immediately.”

  “Yes, sir. By the way, sir, there’s all those liberty requests waiting for your signature.”

  “I told you—there’s no liberty for bots.”

  The comment caught Captain Frescoe’s attention. “Excuse me, Admiral.”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you receive liberty req
uests from some bots?”

  “Yes, we did. I rejected them, of course.”

  The lieutenant charged with arranging transport interrupted. “Excuse me, Admiral. Transport say they cannot get a car here today.”

  The admiral almost exploded. “What? What’s going on?”

  The lieutenant held the phone out to the admiral. “They said none of their shuttles or cars are mobile. They’ve all stopped. He doesn’t know why.”

  “Tell them to get a vehicle here immediately.”

  “Yes, sir.” The lieutenant spoke quietly into the phone. He frowned and replaced the handset. No one noticed the mail bot standing in a corner of the large office, its red camera light blinking.

  “Sir,” prompted the captain.

  “What? Oh, liberty for bots. Whoever heard of such a thing?”

  A petty officer opened the office door and went to enter, stopping when he saw the admiral. He shrugged and entered the office area. He signaled the lieutenant. His movements caught the admiral’s attention.

  “Tomkins, what do you want? If you’re wasting time with my aides, I’ll drop you to PO3.”

  “Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir. I’m not wasting anyone’s time, sir.”

  “What do you want, quickly?”

  “Sir, there are thirty or forty bots outside. They’re blocking the entrance to the offices. Their spokesman—er—bot says they’re here for their liberty passes.”

  One of the aides sniggered. The admiral silently promised retribution if he ever discovered who was responsible.

  The captain asked, “Do you know which ship they’re from?”

  “Er—yes, sir. We understand they’re part of the crew from one of the LCS ships—the Fort Blackstone, sir.”

  “Admiral, we need to talk. Privately.”

  “Listen Frescoe, I don’t have time—”

  “Admiral, we need to talk. Now, sir.”

  Berkstow looked long and hard at the captain. The junior officer did not wilt. The admiral said, “Very well. My office.” He turned and headed back into his office, closely followed by Captain Frescoe.