She moved forward, and Grady just collapsed onto the pavement, curling up—screaming, “No! No!”
“Don’t make me force you.”
He screamed at her—half out of his mind in terror, “How can you sleep at night? How can you be part of this?”
Alexa grabbed his sweatshirt as he tried to curl up in a ball. “Jon, you were placed in Hibernity for your own protection—for everyone’s protection.”
“For my own protection?” He glared at her. “Do you really believe that?” Grady pulled off his sweatshirt and T-shirt to reveal the horrendous scars spread across his back and sides—and then he pulled his LED glasses off to show her the drill marks at intervals at his temples where the AI had held his head in place like a vise.
“Do you see this? Explain to me how being mentally and physically tortured for years in solitary confinement is for my own protection. Explain to me how destroying memories from my childhood is for the ‘greater good.’ Whose good?”
Alexa’s eyes widened in apparent shock at the terrifying scars crisscrossing Grady’s body. Scars that had clearly been made with machine precision. Scars that weren’t there when he’d been sent to Hibernity.
And as Grady watched her closely, Alexa seemed to shut down. The conflict between what she “knew” and the evidence before her seemed to physically stun her.
Grady could see the look of amazement in her staring eyes. “Can Hedrick really be keeping you so in the dark?” He moved toward her. “Hibernity isn’t a prison, Alexa. It’s a research facility. They’re trying to build consciousness without free will. What they’re doing could doom all of us. Everyone. Can you really be so blind?”
Alexa stood frozen—paralyzed. It seemed to Grady that she was suffering some sort of seizure. He waved his hand in front of her face but got no response.
Grady panted in rage and fear, but the sight of his obvious torture apparently had rocked her perception of the world. He knew what it felt like to have one’s beliefs demolished, and his hatred of her relented.
With just a moment’s hesitation Grady then grabbed his sweatshirt and donned his LED glasses. He stared warily back toward her as he walked away, slipping through the crowd of concerned men watching nearby.
He was amazed when Alexa did not follow.
CHAPTER 19
Impasse
Graham Hedrick stood in his cavernous office before a video wall. On it was the aging face of U.S. Director of National Intelligence Kaye Monahan. The image was decidedly less crisp than he was used to, but then, with her aging countenance, that was probably a blessing.
The DNI shook her head calmly. “Mr. Hedrick, you must understand that from the U.S. government’s point of view the current situation is untenable.”
Hedrick spread his hands. “But the BTC is part of the U.S. government, Madam Director.”
“Conceived at a time of crisis—”
“There’s always a crisis.”
“—on what I consider a dubious legal foundation. And by any standard you’ve long ago exceeded your mandate.”
“According to whom?”
“According to the agency that created you and the Office of the Director of National Intelligence.”
“Is that it then? You expect us to fall on our sword because you’ve all become so backward that it’s no longer fair?”
“You refuse to follow U.S. law. You refuse to submit to legitimate civilian authority. You take unilateral actions overseas in direct violation of U.S. treaties and human rights.”
He waved her off. “Don’t go on about law and human rights. None of us follow the law. Do I need to run through the vast catalog of criminality that is the covert world? It comes with the territory. If the law meant anything, we’d all be facing criminal charges—you included.”
She regarded him icily.
Hedrick tried to conceal his utter contempt. He knew this person would be replaced in a couple of years by someone else—that was how democracy worked. It’s why democracy lacked continuity—resolve. He would outlast them. He always did.
“The only reason I agreed to this conference call is because I want to avoid unnecessary ill will, Madam Director. You’ve been agitating for our subjugation ever since you learned of our existence—which is, what, four months ago now? Do you realize how long we’ve been here?”
“Had I known—”
“We can help each other, you and I.”
“I’m well aware of the arrangements you’ve made with other intelligence organizations.”
“Bear in mind: I don’t usually make the arrangements with leadership. Leadership comes and goes. Middle management tends to abide—and they’re much more useful in many ways.”
“What are you implying?”
“I’m saying you should back off. Don’t be so quick to rely on the people around you. Some of them resent the fact that there’s no professional route to the top job. No, instead, one has to rely upon the appointment of a fickle executive—who in turn is elected by a fickle public. A public that knows nothing.”
The DNI glared. “Mr. Hedrick, our intelligence and defense communities are collectively much greater than your small organization—advanced though it may be.”
“Are you?”
“You must come back into the fold.”
“Why would I submit to the leadership of inferior organizations?”
“To keep your job. If the U.S. government has to force your hand, you can rest assured that you will not be in charge when the dust settles. You will be in federal prison.”
“That’s amusing, Madam Director.”
“Those are the facts. We will not tolerate the BTC as a rogue agency any longer. You must submit to legitimate authority. If you do, then you can remain in charge of the BTC. That’s the deal.”
He smirked. “‘Legitimate’ authority—a bunch of incompetent liars who deceive an ignorant rabble into voting for them.” He shook his head. “The BTC isn’t going to submit to anyone.”
“Think carefully before refusing our offer.”
“Carefully? Why do I need to be careful? What you are, Madam Director—all of you in government—what you are is an irritant. Like a crying child. Taking me away from my real concerns, namely illicit organizations in Asia and Eastern Europe that have stolen BTC technology.”
She nodded. “I’ve read the intelligence reports. This situation was caused by the secretive nature of the BTC. They grew out of your organization.”
“Splinter groups, yes—and this occurred before my time. Nonetheless, they need to be dealt with. They pose a grave danger to us all. And in that contest of wills, you and all your early twenty-first-century brethren are about as useful to me as toddlers.”
Monahan’s large image frowned on-screen, accenting her wrinkles. “As director of national intelligence, I am ordering you, Graham Hedrick, to submit to lawful authority—to the legitimate chain of command.”
“Or what? What will you do to us? You’re not the first bureaucrat convinced they could dissolve us. None of them survived the attempt.”
“I consider that a direct threat.”
“Good. Please extend my best wishes to anyone else in your organization with a cooler head on their shoulders. Because we are more than happy to work toward a common purpose with those people.”
“This is your last opportunity, Graham. Do not force our hand.”
Hedrick sighed and laughed. “You’re getting tiresome.”
“Then you leave me no choice. Graham Hedrick, I hereby relieve you of your office and declare the Bureau of Technology Control an illegal, terrorist organization.”
“Oh, come on. Now you’re just acting stupid.”
Monahan angrily slammed her palm onto her desk. “I will not be disrespected in this way!”