Page 4 of Undercover Infidel
The network of dangerous connections the deceased woman was believed to have were critical threads for us to follow.
“If she’s been able to identify who’s continuing Wallace’s work, that could be a significant lead. Although I doubt it would be that simple.”
Con inclined his head in agreement.
The helicopter touched down on a landing pad near the river. A nondescript, gray building loomed before us, its windows tinted to opacity. As the rotors slowed, Niall MacTaggert strode toward us, his features set in grim lines. The Earl of Glenshadow—code name Obsidian, though I knew his friends called him Tag—moved with the deadly grace I remembered from our first meeting.
“About bloody time,” he said, his accent heavier than I’d previously noticed. He turned to me. “Apologies. Good to see you again, Lex. We can certainly use your expertise.”
“Good to see you again too,” I replied. “However, the consensus appears to be that I’m second best,” I added with a pointed look at Con. “But I’ll do.”
Tag let out a short bark of laughter. “Oh, she’ll fit right in.” He sobered quickly.
“Brief us on the way,” Con said as we followed Tag toward an unmarked side entrance.
“As she’s a Unit-23 asset, only Typhon has full clearance for what Nightingale is reporting,” said Tag as we walked.
Once inside, he took us into an observation room with one-way glass, where Leviticus “Typhon” Marras waited.
“Thank you for coming,” said Typhon, nodding at Con and me, then motioning to the adjacent room, where Nightingale was being interviewed. “They’re currently discussing what she describes as ‘integration systems.’”
“The holy grail of autonomous AI weaponry,” Con commented.
“Armaments that can’t be turned against its makers,” I added. “I’d like to speak with her.”
All three men turned to look at me.
“With respect,” Tag began, “I don’t think that’s an appropriate ask.”
“Given this is my area of expertise, there might be technical details she was privy to that could easilybe misunderstood.”
“Do it,” Typhon said, alerting the interview team to take a break.
When I entered the room, Nightingale looked up at me, her dark eyes assessing.
“I don’t know you,” she said.
“Dr. Margot Sterling. I’m an MI6 AI specialist.” I showed her my credentials, and when she gestured to the chair, I sat across from her. “I need to understand exactly what you heard about the integration process.”
For ten minutes, I led the woman through technical questions. As she reiterated the various conversations she’d been privy to, a chilling picture emerged of exactly what I’d feared.
After signaling we were finished, I thanked her and returned to the room where the three men waited.
“There’s someone I know who I believe can help. I’d like to schedule a consult,” I began. “Dr. Evelyn McLaren.”
“Absolutely not,” Con said before the other man even opened his mouth.
I bristled. “Why not?”
“The fewer people involved in this investigation, the better.”
“I completely disagree,” I said, folding my arms. “As the person responsible for creating the Artificial Intelligence Ethics division for SIS fifteen years ago, she knows more about the technology than most anyone in the world.”
“She’s no longer with SIS,” Con stated.
“That’s irrelevant. Dr. McLaren mentored me. Regardless of what you’re insinuating, she’s beyond reproach.”
“People are rarely what they seem,” Con replied coolly.
