The Darwin Project Read online

  “I questioned your reply as we went for a commercial break. So there’s been nothing underhand or questionable in his business dealings?”

  “Not on his side, no. I’m confident my uncle was always honest and forthright.”

  “According to our research, Nathan Travers was an investor in a company called QPD, which was an innovative and ground-breaking designer and manufacturer of quantum process-based computer chips. He acquired a majority interest in that company for what was petty cash, given its current market value. How can you describe that as honest?”

  Toby flipped through his notes and found the paper inserted by Bronwyn. He held it up. “My records show the dishonesty was on the part of the previous majority shareholder. I have copies of documents including affidavits confirming that he issued false invoice to the company, and as a result, the business was basically insolvent. Here is a detailed account signed by that shareholder. I’m sure you’ll recognize the name and the handwriting.” He pushed one of his documents across to the interviewer.

  Shelley Summer’s expression ranged from disinterest to anger to fear as she read the contents of the affidavit executed by her father. “You lie. This is false. It—it cannot be true.”

  Toby replied, “I have other documents in support, including a confirmation from his attorney at the time. Do you want to call him a liar, too?”

  Shelley crumpled the papers. She tried to speak. She coughed and tried again. “I still don’t believe this story,” she hissed.

  Toby looked into the camera opposite him and the red action light glowed. “Unfortunately our award-winning interviewer has been laboring under major misapprehensions.” He opened his folder and removed another document. “Shelley, do you know Andrew Hopkins? I believe he’s your partner?”

  Shelley paled. “Yes. But—” Her voice was hoarse.

  “I understand Andrew is currently under investigation for insider trading? I have copies of documents, which provide evidence that has not yet reached the authorities including a transcript of a telephone conversation between the two of you, where he described how he and three of his friends were about to make a killing. Is this the behavior you consider to be honest?”

  “No—that’s lies, all lies.” She jumped to her feet and threw her glass of water at Toby. “You—your uncle—both of you—you’re the frauds and criminals. Andrew is innocent.” She held back a sob and tugged the microphone from her blouse, tearing the soft silk, inadvertently revealing more breast.

  One of the Drexel guards, ignoring the emotions and almost palpable excitement of the production team, stepped forward and grabbed Shelley’s wrist.

  Shelley screamed and swung her fist at the guard. The resulting scuffle was short-lived, ending with the guard holding the interviewer in a grip that restricted her further movement. Shelley was swearing and crying, moving from anger to hysterics.

  Toby looked into the camera opposite and said, “That concludes our interview. Remember, tune into both Toby in the City and Travers TV for all the excitement you can handle. This is Toby signing off.” He stepped away from the interview table and said, “Will someone get some water for Ms. Summers? She may also require medical treatment.”

  Another Drexel guard moved forward to take control of Shelley Summers. She was in full breakdown, weeping uncontrollably.

  The post-production meeting was relatively short; it included Rick, Karla, Toby, Billie, and Victoria with Terry Tovani and Alistair Airlie. Toby said, “I suppose I must admit I received value from the interview; Toby In The City has experienced record viewers, again.”

  Tovani said, “I have a feeling we were set up, yet I cannot determine how it was done.”

  Alastair shook his head. He had nothing to say.

  Tovani admitted, “I knew Summers had what she considered to be dirt on your uncle. It was, from our perspective, worth letting her run with it.”

  Toby said, “You should have done more research, yourselves.”

  Rick added, “We’ll review the tapes. When we release them, it might be with the proviso the interview is run in its entirety, without cuts or editorial additions.”

  Tovani sat down, deflating like a leaking balloon. His voice was strained. “I’m conflicted. The interview is golden.”

  “I think you’d make an excellent poker player,” Billie said. They were back in the apartment and were watching the interview tape for the third time.

  “I agree,” Rick added. “He won hundreds of dollars from us, at college. In final year, no one would play against him.”

  Victoria said, “I didn’t know you had those papers.”

  “It was a last minute find in my uncle’s files.” Toby knew he shouldn’t lie to his legal adviser, but he couldn’t reveal Bronwyn’s assistance. “Well, what do you think? Do we let Associated Pacific and SkyV run with this? I suppose ABZ will also want to participate.”

  Victoria suggested. “They’ll all get headlines from the interview. Tovani is correct—reputations of you and your uncle are undamaged. You come off as the potential victim surviving false accusations from a somewhat arrogant interviewer.”

  Billie said, “Drexel messaged. He said that Summers admitted she intended to do all the damage she could, to your reputation—and to Nate’s.”

  Darwin ventured his opinion from his tropical location. “I think there are advantages to be gained in releasing the interview. The media will have a field day, I suspect. A key benefit is that you’ll be able to decline future requests. Few will want to take you on after watching that attempted attack and reversal.”

  Victoria said, “Yes, I agree, let them run it.”

  “Very well. Rick, you and Karla deal with it. Keep me informed, okay?”

  oOo

  Chapter Thirty

  Billie watched with avid interest as the little bot carefully carried a tray loaded with two teacups, a plate of cookies, a tiny jug of milk, and a pot of tea from the small kitchen into the living room. The man sitting opposite her smiled with pride as the care bot placed the tray on the low side table.

  The bot looked at him with almost human-like eyes and said, “Did I do good, Methuselah? Do you think I impressed Billie?” The eyes were disguised cameras. The care bot’s face was designed to be semi-human, in a female, doll-like context. She had a mouth behind which was a small speaker unit and her ears were designed as bi-aural microphones. Her lips were pink and her cheeks rosy. Her head was capped with artificial hair; curly, short, and tidy. The overall effect resulted in a lifelike, non-threatening appearance.

  The man patted the bot’s head. “Of course, CB. You did good. You always do.” The small bot whirred softly to itself—it was almost a purr—and headed to stand against the wall near the door into the bedroom. The man set about pouring a cup of tea for himself and his unofficially adopted daughter.

  Billie said with a smile, “Henry, she’s still calling you by that name? I thought you were going to change it?”

  “We’re both used to it. I know, it was a joke originally, and not necessarily a good one. Now? I don’t want to upset her programming with an unnecessary change. They can be sensitive and you’ve no idea how much I rely on these two.”

  “I’m so glad I took notice of Nate Travers when he recommended I start a business based on them. It’s really taken off.”

  “How many do you have now?”

  “I’m renting out two hundred of this model. There’s another model, suited for total invalids and Alzheimer patients. They’re larger and more capable of coping with the needs of that category of patient. I’ve forty of those. I’ve ordered an additional fifty of each and probably should double that quantity. Deliveries are slow. There is very high demand. Fortunately, because of Nate’s recommendation to the manufacturer, I’m a favored customer and get priority.”

  “Two hundred and forty rented out? Wow. You’ll soon be able to stop work.” Billie’s informally-adoptive father had helped develop her care bot business model and was aware of th
e cost and revenue details. He was pleased she had started her business, not only because he required the support the bots provided to him. “What about the autonomous mobility units? How many—”

  “Henry, call them what they are.” Billie laughed. “They’re wheelchair units. Autonomous, yes. But they’re still wheelchairs.”

  “Mine doesn’t like being called a wheelchair. Well, not since its upgrade.”

  “Oh. When was this upgrade?”

  “About a month ago. I mentioned it to you in one of my texts, remember?”

  “Ah, yes. I’d forgotten. There’ll be more upgrades, too. More improvements. It’s very interesting in that way, working with Nate and now Toby.”

  “You’ve heard nothing more about Nathan’s disappearance? They still don’t know what happened?”

  “No. The FBI is at a standstill. Toby’s hoping his uncle is alive and well, somewhere. I’m not as optimistic. It’s all so very sad. Toby’s missing his uncle.”

  Something in Billie’s voice caught her father’s attention. “Tell me about this Toby. Is he good to work with? Did he mind you taking the evening off?”

  Billie felt herself blushing. “I—I’m enjoying it, very much. He’s a nice man. And no, once he knew I was intending to visit you, he told me to take all the time I needed.”

  “How old is he? What was he doing before? Is he married? What does he look like?”

  “Hey! Take it easy with the third degree. He’s thirty-five, only a year older than me. He was an associate professor at Caltech. He has a doctorate—I think he might have two. He’s not married. And—he’s handsome.”

  “Ahah!”

  “What do you mean, ahah?”

  “Nothing. Can’t I say ahah without meaning something?” He smiled.

  “Oh—”

  “Gotcha.”

  Billie pretended to throw a cushion at Henry in retaliation.

  He shrugged off her threat. “Are you staying for a meal?”

  “I thought I could cook something for you. CB can help. Where’s Robo?”

  “He’s recharging. He spent hours cleaning the apartment before you arrived and said he felt exhausted.”

  The apartment was part of an assisted care complex and consisted of a furnished bedroom, bathroom, sitting room, and kitchen. While it was moderately expensive, Henry had his pension and an investment income that covered the costs. Billie provided his care bots and the autonomous wheelchair free of charge. She had told him it allowed her to evaluate the effectiveness of the units in operation and thus was a proper business expense. He had stopped arguing with her once he’d experienced the care provided by the specialized bots.

  Billie didn’t mind the expense. He was the only father she could remember. Her natural father had been killed by an improvised explosive device in Afghanistan a year or so after she was born. Henry had lost one leg in that same explosion and also had suffered other injuries. His health and mobility had degraded over the years, and the bots and what he called his autonomous mobility unit ensured he was not permanently bedridden. Billie was happy to provide the support she could.

  She set about preparing an evening meal in the small kitchen. The two bots, CB and Robo, the latter now recharged, fussed around her, and she gave them small tasks to carry out. Henry supervised the three of them from his chair in the sitting room.

  They both sat at the table and enjoyed the meal. The bots stood patiently against the wall near the bedroom door. The bot called CB raced over to the table when Billie began to clear away the plates.

  “That is our task, Billie. Robo will help. We take care of Methuselah and, of course, of you, when you’re visiting. Please sit. Please.”

  Robo had joined CB, and they both stared at Billie with their wide eyes.

  She surrendered. “Very well. I’ll sit with Henry while you both tidy up.”

  CB said, “You know Henry is as old as Methuselah? He likes us to call him by that name. We don’t really think he’s that old. Robo checked. He’s very good with us, you know.”

  Henry caught Billie’s eye and shrugged, as if to say, “I told you.”

  She grinned at him.

  “Are you watching anything on cable?” Billie asked.

  “No. There are one or two programs I’d like to watch but they might upset CB or Robo. I’m still unsure of their self-identification and whether they have aspirations we’re not aware of.”

  Billie sat on one of the softer chairs, still, lost in thought. She wondered how much input Darwin had to the bot personalities. She planned to ask him when she returned to the apartment. She checked the time and was about to make a comment when there was a knock on the door.

  “Expecting visitors?”

  ‘It could be the pharmacy duo. I’m not taking any of their medications and sometimes they don’t check. Robo, see who it is, please.”

  The bot trundled over to the door, opened it and said, “Can we help you?”

  Whoever was outside the door didn’t answer and pushed the door open with an explosive burst. Robo fell to the floor and CB rushed forward to rescue her fallen companion. Two men, dressed in white uniforms, pushed their way into the suite, past the bots. Henry sat up, his consternation apparent.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing, coming in here like that?”

  Billie, alarmed, started to reach for her handgun and remembered she’d put it in her handbag. She fumbled, cursing her carelessness.

  One of the men noticed her movement, He raised a weapon, a silenced automatic, pointed it at her stepfather and said, “Stop right there. I’ll shoot this old man before you can get your gun out. Go on; see if you can beat me.”

  Billie froze. She was certain the two men weren’t here to attack Henry. She had a growing suspicion they sought her. When she saw the MAWA badge on the man’s shirt collar she knew the answer. Her heart sank.

  The second man was preparing a hypodermic.

  Henry shouted, “Get out of here. Robo, CB, stop these people—they’re dangerous.”

  The two bots charged forward, towards the man with the weapon. He fired two shots, one at each of the bots. He was a professional and hit his targets with practiced precision. The bullets hit the center of each bot’s head, where its nose would be if it was human. He was using hollow points and the impact flattened each bullet; they tore through the sensitive mechanisms and processing units contained in the head units. The two bots fell, their internal chips, memories, functions, and abilities destroyed.

  The man with the hypodermic stood beside Billie. She was paralyzed with fear for her father. Henry was shouting threats and curses. No one outside the apartment seemed to be taking notice of the noise. Billie felt the hypodermic bite her arm.

  As her vision faded she saw the man aim his handgun at Henry. She screamed. She did not hear the shot. Blackness filled her mind. She was not aware of being carried out of the apartment or of being placed on a gurney. The jolting ride along the corridor through to the freight area in the rear of the building did not disturb her. She did not notice that one of the men had removed the Tesla keys from her jacket pocket and left to move the vehicle. She did not see the laundry van drive up. Nor did she know she was bundled into the vehicle as though she was nothing more than soiled linen.

  When the gunman had shot Henry, neither he nor his companion had noticed the movement of the autonomous mobility unit, alerted by the destruction of its fellow bots. It began recording the events taking place in the living room. It tried to navigate around furniture in the bedroom; however, by the time it reached the living room, the two men had left. It did not know what to do about the three lifeless forms, its client and its friends and fellow care units. It transmitted the images it had taken to the cloud address contained in its instruction set and then switched itself off. Permanently.

  oOo

  Chapter Thirty-One

  First thing in the morning, Toby had a meeting with Narumi and her engineering team. Billie was still away and not a
nswering her cell phone. Toby, worried, had alerted Drexel and for the moment he was being driven by one of the security guards. He was trying to hide his concerns. While they were in transit, Raymond Reynolds, the FBI agent, called.

  When Toby answered his phone, Reynolds said, “We may have some news regarding your uncle. Do you have time to meet with me?”

  “Sure. I’m heading to get an update from one of our project teams. You could visit there, which I’d prefer.”

  “What’s the address?”

  Toby provided the details.

  Reynolds said, “I’m at the FBI offices on Wilshire Boulevard, so you’re not too far from here. With the current traffic I can be there in twenty minutes. Would that suit?”

  “If it’s to find out what’s happened to my uncle, yes.”

  “We may not have answers. We do have some possible information.”

  “Good. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  After he finished talking to the agent, Toby said to the driver, “There might be news about Nate. Agent Reynolds will be at the project office in about twenty minutes. I’d like to talk to him before I meet with Narumi and the team.”

  “We should arrive at about the same time. We can wait in the car.”

  The agent arrived two minutes or so after the driver parked the Tesla inside the gated area. He forewarned the Drexel guard on the entrance gate and when the FBI SUV arrived, the FBI driver was directed to park next to the Tesla.

  “Raymond, thanks for meeting with me here,” Toby said. “I have far too many commitments at the moment. What’s the news on Nate?”

  “I understand. We’re not yet totally certain this links to your uncle. Let me explain. A week or so back there was an anonymous 911 call to Marina Del Rey sheriff’s station. They sent a patrol car to a possible disturbance at the corner of Washington Boulevard and Strongs Drive. When officers arrived, no one was there. They checked along the boulevard down to beach. They recovered a backpack containing some computer equipment. My people tell me it’s a RAID device of some kind. They’ve been unable to access the contents; the security and encryption are far too strong. Anyway, the patrol car continued on almost to the pier where they encountered one of the homeless people who stay around that area. He claimed he’d tried to save a man somewhere along the pier. Unfortunately, as they spoke to this homeless guy they discovered he’d been stabbed. He died there, on the pier.”