Page 128 of Lone Wolf

“All those machine-learning algorithms? Allman’s AI? It’s reading everything about everyone. Which means it can literally predict the future. A worker at high risk of committing a workplace shooting, like Quinn. An employee likely to commit embezzlement, like Okonkwo. A secretary considering filing a big-ass #MeToo lawsuit. Someone primed to become a corporate spy and leak sensitive tech. Allman can identify them in advance before they do anything. And cancel them. Predicting future behavior. It’s not science fiction. It’s now. It’s real.”

“Real,” Evan said.

Dog stood and shuddered off his sluggishness, freeing a mist of shed hair. He padded over and sat beside Joey. The three of them stared at the tableau of Friedhoff in the conference room, a man who wasn’t a man greenlighting an execution that he didn’t greenlight. A deception so bold and mind-bending it felt almost satanic. All as cover for a CEO killing his employees because a computer program predicted they might cause trouble for his corporation in the future.

In the face of it, there was not much man or dog could offer.

57

Removal of Troublesome Personnel

For some reason, Evan was not surprised that Allman answered his own cell phone. Evan stood on his east-facing balcony in the Angeleno night, breeze in his hair. Twenty-one stories below, cars streamed up Wilshire Boulevard, high beams animating the asphalt in a pale champagne wash. In the distance, downtown thrust jaggedly into a hazy swirl of moonlit clouds. Glowing windows delineated the skyline and punched through the dark of night as well as the invisible buildings holding them aloft.

“I know who you are,” Evan said.

A long pause as Allman breathed wetly. “And I know who you are, Dr. Leigh,” he said.

“I’m surprised it took you this long.”

“Me as well. Turns out there are advantages to your staying offline, no digital signature, et cetera. Your cover was good, I’ll give you that. But not as powerful as my digital progeny, who revealed the study on genius—and you—to be a sham. AI pattern recognition of the destruction you’ve left in your wake—weapons abandoned, operations raided, tactical maneuvers— matched you to past Nowhere Man operations with 99.893 percent accuracy. Only one question remains. Why are you interested in me?”

“I know what you did.”

“Perhaps less vagueness.”

“You had Hill executed and pinned it on Friedhoff. The woman you hired was willing to take out Hill’s daughter, too, just to keep it clean.”

“Okay,” Allman said, unruffled. “Fine. But let’s at least be honest. That’s just an excuse for you to try to stop me. What this is really about? Is the power I have and the fact that you don’t want me to have it.”

“No,” Evan said. “It’s the girl. And her father.”

“But that can’t be,” Allman said. “That doesn’t make any sense. They’re just … a rounding error. It’s so much less than everything else.”

In the neighboring building across the street, a little boy sat at an upright piano, practicing. His legs swung beneath the stool, too short for his feet to reach the floor. His father was in the kitchen hovering over the stove, poking at pots with a wooden spoon.

“I know,” Evan said. “But it’s real. I can touch it.”

An even longer pause. “You’re upset,” Allman said. “Emotionally.”

“Not emotionally,” Evan said. “Deeper.”

He could practically hear Allman trying to process what he was being told, cogs and wheels grinding, searching for a different gear.

He knew the feeling.

“Okay,” Allman said. “I can fix this. I will cancel the upcoming measure on the Hill girl. And I’ll give you the assassin lady.”

Evan said, “That’s not enough.”

“I understand. I understand now. I won’t do it anymore.”

“Do what?”

“No more rounding errors. No more removal of troublesome personnel.”

“That’s not enough.”

A slight whine, tempered by impudence: “I said I won’t do it anymore.”