“We don’t really know,” she said. “But it seems his origins go all the way back to the beginning of the Internet age. Programmed to learn and to grow, he’s been working toward sentience ever since, from what we can tell.” She cleared her throat and hesitated, obviously worried that they’d gotten off track. “Now back to his code’s location …”
The giant image hanging above them zoomed in on the building in question—a small, three-story structure wedged between two skyscrapers. Being Lifeblood Deep, Atlanta was an exact replica of the real deal, and Kaine’s home had been classified as a historical building. That was the only reason it hadn’t been demolished a long time ago. The perfect hiding place for a rogue Tangent.
“Because he’s spotted in the Sleep all the time,” Sarah continued, “I don’t think there’s any way Kaine has used the Mortality Doctrine on himself. It’s way too early. He’ll want a lot more testing done before he dares do it. So we’re pretty sure he’s here.”
Agent Weber stepped up to the microphone, and Sarah moved aside as naturally as if they’d practiced. It bugged Michael. He was sure the agent wanted to take all the glory now that it was time for the meat of the presentation.
“Thank you, Sarah,” the woman said, giving Sarah one of those professional smiles that said her mind had already moved on to the next thought. She turned to the audience. “I don’t think I need to tell you how much we owe Sarah and her friends. They’re under an incredible amount of stress. Suffice it to say that they’ve undertaken incredibly dangerous assignments for us on more than one occasion, and our debt to them is significant.”
She paused, and the other agents took the cue, finally erupting into applause. Michael swore he even heard a couple of hoots out there.
When it quieted down, Weber continued. “The information that our young friends have gathered is astounding. I think we can all be impressed—should be impressed. In twenty-four hours they’ve done something that none of us has been able to accomplish: they have isolated the central code of Kaine’s Tangent programming. I’ll be sending it to all of you so that we can begin the full analysis and develop a plan of attack. Our goal, and I don’t say this lightly …” She let that last word hang out there for a few seconds. “Our goal is to make a move within seven days’ time.”
This elicited a wave of fierce whispering, as if the idea was preposterous. Michael frowned. Was that too much time or not enough? In his mind, they should be acting yesterday. Kaine could move his base at any time. But they’d need to be prepared.
Weber held up her hands to quiet them down. “Time is of the essence. I’ll go through the final details and then let you get straight to work. As you can see from the map of Atlanta …”
Bryson leaned in to Michael. “These people are gonna screw everything up. Gah-ron-teed,” he whispered. He stepped back, not waiting for a response.
Michael hated how thoroughly he agreed.
An hour later, Michael was sitting in a small room, at a table, eating hot dogs. Not the most glorious thing to be doing after attending a meeting in the War Room of the VNS.
Bryson was next to him, picking through a salad, of all things. Sarah sat across the table, eating hot dogs slathered in chili and cheese. Weber had told them she needed to take care of a few details before they decided on a plan of action—after all, the three of them were fugitives from the law, even if they’d apparently convinced the VNS they were innocent of cyber-terrorism and kidnapping.
When Weber dropped them off in the break room, she’d introduced them to a man from the cafeteria, then instructed him to get the three whatever they wanted. And so it was that they ended up eating hot dogs and salad.
“I gotta admit,” Bryson said, talking through a bite of lettuce. “I tuned out big-time once that lady got going. Stuff we already knew anyway.”
Michael plopped a half-eaten dog back onto his plate. He’d had enough, though he figured that out a few bites after his stomach did. He leaned back in his seat and groaned. “Ugh. Ate too much.”
“Oh, really?” Bryson said snarkily. “I would’ve never guessed.” He gave Michael’s plate a disapproving look.
“Next time we’ll order one of your dainty salads,” Sarah responded. “And then a half hour later when we’re starving we’ll get some more hot dogs.”
Bryson responded by taking a huge bite of his rabbit food; he chomped on it and moaned with pleasure.
“You were good up there,” Michael said to Sarah. “Seriously. Official prediction: you’re the head of the VNS by the time you turn thirty. Then president of the country by forty. You heard it here first.”
Bryson made a pssshaw sound. “If we’re all still alive.”
It came off way more somberly than he’d probably intended, and the room plunged into silence. For just a few seconds, Michael had forgotten about all their woes.
“Thanks for reminding me,” he grumbled.
“Huh?” Bryson asked.