Curie Motors Facility | Round Rock, Texas
The bitter cold had faded, but it was still chilly enough that Kayne was wearing a long coat and scarf as she mingled among a passel of reporters and civilians. The scarf was handy for obscuring her features—since this was going to be a nationally televised event, it was best to keep a low profile. But just in case, QuIEK was actively scanning live feeds and digitally altering her features as the video was transmitted. So that only left people here on the ground to worry about. It seemed unlikely anyone would recognize her, but unlikely things tended to happen more often than she’d like.
The crowd gathered on the grounds of the Curie Motors campus seemed cheerful enough. All the talk and chatter was along the lines of “How did you keep from freezing to death in your own home?” There were some grumblings about things like Texas’ energy infrastructure, and what should be done about bolstering it. And there was lots of talk about who was to blame for everything, whether the Republicans should be ousted from office or the Democrats should be put in jail for this or that potential crime against common sense. People were raw at the moment, hurt and looking for someone to blame, but also glad to be past the worst of it.
Kayne avoided all the talk, engaging with no one and dodging among the gathered crowd until she managed to position herself close to the makeshift bullpen of reporters. They were all eagerly waiting to ping Ross Eckhart with questions. Some were doing live standups, talking to anchors in distant studios, speculating on what Eckhart would say.
There was a temporary stage and podium set up, with the giant logo of Curie Motors looming from the building in the background—a stylized “CM” that evoked a sort of bygone era of science and exploration. Ross Eckhart, Kayne knew, was fond of a more “vintage” era of engineering. He was a huge sci-fi nerd, and most of his goals for his businesses read like a kid plotting to make Star Trek into a reality.
She kind of liked that about him, honestly. She had similar sensibilities about technology and the future, a sort of hopeful longing for what could be, if only we could get out of our own way. Of course, Eckhart’s public vision and persona might turn out to be all show, which would be a little disappointing, though not altogether unexpected.
Billionaires, Kayne thought, shaking her head.
She’d met and dealt with a lot of them, even before she went on the run and had become a source of justice for the disenfranchised. Silicon Valley bred billionaires, and almost all of them worked from a hustle-first ethic that, Kayne had decided, somehow warped their brains. It desensitized them to what it meant to be a normal human being, for a start. They often fell for their own press, believing the messianic levels of adoration they got from those who yearned to have their access to cash. But to Kayne, the truth about most billionaires was that they were some of the poorest people she’d met. They had all the money in the world, but tended to lack the vision to match it, to make it useful for something.
Conversely, some of the most financially destitute people Kayne had encountered had lives of absolute treasure—friends, family, a stable home, a community they belonged to. She’d give anything to have all of those things. She, who might actually be a notch above all the billionaires in the world, in terms of access to wealth and power, would give all of it up if she could just settle in with someone she loved, committing herself to building something with that person.
For now, and maybe forever, she’d have to settle on doing whatever good she could in the world, despite being hunted.
The gathered press were all greeted by the Curie Motor’s PR rep, who first read a statement about the current state of the company. Most personnel had all been sent home, she stated, when it became clear that conditions were dangerous. Only a skeleton crew remained, and they were all given warm clothing and comfortable quarters, as well as ample compensation for their time.
It was only today, the PR rep stated, that the human presence within the facility had started to ramp back up. But that didn’t mean that production had ground to a halt.
“Our automated systems continued to run throughout,” she smiled. “As many of you are aware, we have numerous industrial generators on site, and of course, we have ample solar panels and stored power. That technology is proprietary, so I can’t give you specifics. But I can say that we were able to keep operations going for the past five days despite the blackouts and even with the heavy cloud cover. As team members arrive and get back to work, we will be able to meet all of our projections. And before anyone asks,” she said, smiling, “yes, employees were paid for the down time.”
Reporters began firing off questions, but she held up a placating hand and waited for them to quiet down. “Mr. Eckhart has instructed me to let him answer all of your questions from this point forward.”
There was a surprised rumble among the reporters. Eckhart wasn’t shy about talking to the press, but everyone had just assumed he’d let his PR team handle the more mundane questions, while he offered his usual “profound soundbites at the finale,” as one Washington Post columnist referred to them. Eckhart adhered to a sort of Steve-Jobsian “one more thing” approach to talking to the press, and it was unusual for him to take direct questions regarding operations.
Kayne was surprised as well. Eckhart was a chronically busy guy—as an itinerant CEO, he moved around a lot, and was personally and directly involved in dozens of projects across his entire catalog of companies around the globe. The fact that he’d even made a personal appearance here today was enough to keep the news cycle talking. But for him to be the sole person taking questions…
Something was up.
After a few more pat PR statements, the rep finally introduced Eckhart, and there was actually some applause from the civilians present (and even among the press) as he stepped out from behind a barrier beyond the stage. He smiled and waved as he walked forward to the podium, where he braced his hands on either side and leaned in toward the microphone.
“Good afternoon,” he said, his voice the familiar quiet, paced tone everyone had come to recognize. There was a slight trace of a German accent, a holdover from his childhood, despite living as an American citizen most of his life. It had the effect of giving him an exotic air. “I first want to express how happy we are to report that all the Curie Motors employees and their families have been accounted for, and were able to get through this unusual weather event with relatively small issues. Some employees had pipes burst and flood their homes, among other troubling issues, and I’ve actually created a charitable fund to help them get things back together. I’ve also initiated a program to ensure that each Curie Motors employee receives a solar generator, provided by our sister company, Envolt.”
There was an appreciative murmur from the crowd, and even Alex found herself impressed by the generosity of the move. Envolt was another of Eckhart’s Star Trek dream companies, manufacturing next-level battery technology that could be charged from almost any source, but was particularly efficient with the company’s proprietary solar panel tech. Like any smart tech billionaire, Eckhart had irons in a lot of fires, and all of those irons worked together. Eckhart’s style of horizontal integration made it possible for him to own production for everything each of his companies needed, which meant advances and innovations could come at a more rapid clip. If he needed batteries for his cars, he had a company for that. And likewise, Curie Motors produced the trucks that delivered those batteries and other products to distributors—most of which were owned by Eckhart’s retail division.
This wasn’t a new approach, of course. It had been the method used by the likes of Henry Ford and Thomas Edison in their day. Supply chain issues weren’t a problem when you owned the entirety of the supply chain. But for whatever reason, such integration was a rare event in the modern digital era. Eckhart was one of a few technologists on the planet using methods like these, and the results were nothing short of impressive. All of Eckhart’s businesses were flexible and adaptive—and more importantly, hugely profitable.
“As our employees return to work,” Eckhart continued, “we’ll continue to provide any assistance they need. But we’re also extending financial assistance to the local community. The fund is being managed by a non-profit, and is open to donations. The bigger the fund, the greater its reach. So, I call upon everyone who is able to donate any amount they can, from wherever you are in the world. All funds will go to helping families who have been impacted by the polar vortex, to repair damage caused by the freeze.”
More approval, more goodwill, more applause. Eckhart was good at this. It was hard for Kayne to tell, though… was he truly altruistic? Or was this more of an opportunistic play? Goodwill from the public often had a positive impact on the bottom line.
She couldn’t be sure. There was a part of her that wanted all of this to be genuine, but she did have some doubts. Life on the run tended to make one jaded and pessimistic.
“That is all very important,” Eckhart said, waving as if clearing the air. “And it’s been a great concern for all of us here at Curie Motors. But that isn’t entirely why I wanted to speak with you today. Before the polar vortex interrupted our plans, I had intended to come here anyway, and announce something very important. I was already here in Round Rock when the freeze happened, lest anyone think I made a special trip just for the photo op.” He grinned at this comment, and there was a smattering of appreciative laughter. But when it died down, he looked around and smiled lightly. He took a breath, and pulled back his shoulders, then nodded.
“Effective immediately,” Eckhart said, scanning along the faces in the press pool, “I am stepping down as the CEO of Curie Motors.”
Once the initial shock of the announcement passed, there was an immediate explosion of questions from the press and protests from the people gathered. Eckhart had become something of a folk hero, especially here in Round Rock. In a time when so many were suffering from the impact of a natural disaster, and casting out for any hope they could find, it came as a kind of psychological blow to learn that there would be such a major change to Curie Motors.
Kayne was as shocked as anyone.
Absolutely nothing in the profile she’d amassed on Eckhart had hinted at a plan for him to step down. He was such an integral part of the operations of each of his businesses, the idea of him leaving leadership of even one of those companies to someone else was absurd.
The press asked most of the questions Kayne wanted answers to. Was Eckhart retiring altogether? Was he having any health issues? Who would take over as CEO? What did this move mean for his other companies? What was his end game?
Eckhart gave mostly fluff answers to the press. Vague responses that, Kayne knew, were meant to fuel more speculation in the media and the public, to keep the conversation going and to point it in a particular direction. To her, it felt like a move meant to create a smokescreen, a diversion to keep people from seeing what was really happening. Kayne suspected Eckhart was showing some of his cards, so that everyone ignored the deck.
And, of course, it was already working. Just within the short radius of where she stood, she heard hundreds of armchair theories about why he would make a move like this, even why he chose this particular time to make his announcement. Conspiracy theories, mostly. But some actually seemed to have a bit of merit, with people suggesting it was a move to pivot into something else. Something very different from everything Eckhart had done before.
Government, maybe? Would Eckhart run for office?
Or maybe he was engaged some new business that would draw scrutiny from the SEC?
Military contracts? Space exploration? Was he moving his operations to a foreign country? He did still have ties to Germany, the home country of his parents.
It was all plausible speculation, but Kayne wasn’t letting any of it influence her. She hadn’t studied Ross Eckhart for long, but she felt she’d learned enough about him to know that his plans always fell firmly into the “unguessable” category. No one was likely to know what he was up to, or to even guess it, until he was ready to share it with the world.
Well… almost no one.
She glanced down at the sat phone and tapped a few commands for QuIEK. Maybe she could find some communication Eckhart had made, a text or email, anything, that would give her some clue as to what he was doing.
The real question she had to face, however, was simple and straightforward: Is this relevant?
Things had gotten a bit weird and off the rails since arriving in Round Rock, with the polar vortex hitting so hard and shutting things down. And with it turning out that Ross Eckhart was kind of a weirdly intriguing guy. That was unexpected.
But she couldn’t let herself forget the real reason she was here. She had a client who needed her help. Even if that client didn’t currently know Alex Kayne existed, she was still a client. She still needed help. And right now, Ross Eckhart and Curie Motors appeared to be the bad guys in that scenario.
Kayne still had a job to do.
Whether Eckhart’s odd business move factored into that job, she’d have to figure out later. For now, all of this weirdness had created an opportunity, and she needed to take.
For five days the Curie Motors facility had been locked down tight, with only a skeletal team of security personnel and essential workers present. Two million dollars worth of security measures made this place tough to crack at the best of times, but it was ironically much harder with fewer people on site.
QuIEK could get her past any digital security measures as if they weren’t there. Camera’s wouldn’t see her, scanners and sensors wouldn’t notice her. Door alarms would mysteriously disable themselves, and keycard and biometric access would be wide open to her. If it was connected to a network, and that network had any outward-facing access point, QuIEK owned it.
But with no people in the building, beyond the roving teams of security personnel and a worker skeleton crew, there was no one for her to blend in with. She’d stick out as very noticeable—an unfamiliar face who had no business being in the building. It was a fast pass to a prison cell.
Kayne could handle herself if things ever came down to a physical altercation. But even she couldn’t take down an entire team of trained security guys, with orders to break the limbs and extremities of any intruders they found. And after a week of observing that security team in action, Kayne knew some of their patterns. They had the place sewn up pretty tight. There were no gaps wide enough for her to get in unseen.
Her original plan had been to go in disguised as a consultant, with clearances established ahead of time by QuIEK. Once she was on the inside, the security thinned a bit, and relied more on the digital gatekeepers. No need to police the halls of a building that almost no one could get into without being seen. She had a better chance of getting to that air gapped network without being spotted once she was past that first level security scrutiny.
But the polar vortex had turned that apple cart over. All nonessential personnel had been ordered to leave, the place was physically locked down, and the security team literally lived on site for five days. Kayne’s plan had been rendered worthless.
But today…
The spectacle of Ross Eckhart’s press conference, and the shocking announcement he’d just made, were practically custom-tailored to be the perfect distraction. And with personnel returning in droves, including consultants and contractors who were not necessarily regulars in the halls, there was now a shifting army of strange and new faces moving into the facility. Security was stretched a little thin, making sure all the people gathered to hear their boss speak were kept out of the facility. Fewer guards manned the doors and the scanners within the building, and they were at their limits dealing with checking and verifying identifications and credentials. As long as no one had a gun in their pocket or some other forbidden object, nearly everyone was being waved through with minimal scrutiny.
This was the time.
Kayne had dressed appropriately, wearing business clothing that made her look the part of a consultant, but wouldn’t restrict her movements. She kept her gear light—the sat phone and her smart watch were her connection and backup connection to QuIEK, respectively. She had a couple of paperclips in her pocket to use as a makeshift pick and tension wrench, in case you needed to pick a physical lock. And she had on a stylish pair of sneakers instead of pumps or heels, because running was just something she inevitably had to do.
There was always running.
At least the sneakers were somewhat high fashion, and didn’t look out of place among the health-conscious Austin crowd.
She would have loved to go in with more of an arsenal of tools and resources, but it was better to travel light. The first rule of illegally infiltrating a place was “carry only what you need.”
The first barrier to entry was simply getting through the crowd and into the queue for the security checks. Everyone on site was eager to speak with Eckhart personally, it seemed. Everyone except Kayne. She managed to squeeze and dodge her way through the crowd and get into a line leading through the first set of X-ray and ATI scanners. No one raised an eyebrow over the items she put into the little tray—her phone, watch, and paperclips were innocuous enough. And she wasn’t wearing anything unusual that might have caused her to be stopped and searched. She was the least interesting person in the queue.
Once on the other side of that set of security measures, she moved to the next. Here, the guards checked her credentials against their in-house systems. QuIEK had generated a full profile for her, including her photo, and she had created a driver’s license to match her data. The guard checked all of this, scrutinizing it, and Kayne was glad to see her work passed muster. She was ushered through and into the facility.
From the front entrance, she checked in for a temporary badge, which gave her access to certain areas. She was informed that the badge had a RF tag that allowed the building’s scanners to track everywhere she went. “So don’t lose your badge,” the woman behind the desk smiled. “Security holds people for twelve hours when they’re found without a badge, or if they end up in an area where they have no clearance.”
“Good to know,” Kayne smiled. “Twelve hours is kind of a long time.”
The woman shrugged. “They run a ton of background checks on anyone they detain, and it takes at least that long.”
Kayne understood. This was part of the “reasonable timeframe” that Texas courts used as a standard for detainment. Though she knew that it took far less than twelve hours to run even the most extensive state and federal background check. The timeframe was meant to be intimidating, to deter anyone from breaking the rules, or from ever breaking the rules again.
Kayne had no intention of being detained. But she did plan to break a lot of rules.
Almost from the instant her RF badge was generated, QuIEK had reprogrammed her access levels, and established an echo of her badge in the system. No matter where she went in the facility, the internal systems would register as someone and somewhere else. If anyone stopped her and scanned her badge, they’d see she had access to wherever she happened to be. And if they checked it against the system, it would dutifully report that she was in that location.
Of course, her image was being live-masked out of all video footage. She was effectively a ghost in the system.
She moved away from the lobby and took the elevator to the third floor—the top floor for the facility. This was where a series of offices and work spaces had been set up, and it was where she would be expected to go, if she really were a consultant or contractor. But for her purposes, it was a good access point for her target.
The Curie Motors facilities was massive—more than a mile long, with vast spaces dedicated to assembly line work. The office level stretched the entire length of the building, along the second and third floors, and was the easiest way for Kayne to get from one end of the facility to the other. She had a 3D rendering of the entire building on her phone, stitched together from a combination of public blueprints, city planning documents, and the building’s own internal cameras and sensors. With this, QuIEK was guiding her through the maze of corridors and cubicles, to a stairwell that would get her close to the vault she was trying to access.
The air-gapped network was inside that vault—really a set of nested labs and dedicated office spaces on the first floor, set aside from the assembly line and segregated from the rest of the facility. To even have a shot at accessing it, she would need to get down to the first floor via a stairwell on the East end of the building. That particular stairwell was locked off from casual access—it required a special key card, along with biometric screening. Very secure.
Easy.
And there was a bonus.
The likelihood of encountering anyone in that stairwell would be slim. Only authorized personnel could even get in there, and most people in the building—even including security personnel—had no need. According to her surveillance, the people working in the air-gapped lab all came in through a dedicated entrance on the ground floor, and rarely required access to the levels above. The lab was its own space, its own ecosystem within the Curie Motors facility, and anyone coming and going was already scrutinized, vetted, and verified. So if you were there, the assumption was you belonged there.
QuIEK would make it so that Kayne belonged there. Or at least would appear to. Again, easy.
Still, it always paid to be extra paranoid, especially in confined spaces. She had QuIEK run through worst-case scenarios, finding her as many ways out of there as possible. Meanwhile, she concentrated on continuing through the gamut of office spaces on the third floor.
It took a very long time to get to the stairwell. Covering a mile through cubicles and corridors, dodging anyone who might look too closely and ask too many questions, meant it was slow going, end to end. At one point she stopped at a break room for a cup of coffee—which turned out to not be so bad. Curie Motors had a very hip atmosphere, for a corporate office space, and the “break room” was actually a faux coffee shop and café setting, with a fully functional espresso machine and even a selection of healthy meals, available for free to employees and visitors alike.
Kayne always avoided eating and drinking when she was on a job. It wasn’t like she’d get a chance to stop and use the restroom if someone started chasing her. But she justified stopping and sipping a latte and nibbling on some fruit, in the name of stealth and camouflage. To anyone watching, she was just another consultant enjoying some surprisingly good coffee and a healthy nosh.
Noshing complete, however, it was time to get back to work.
She took the coffee with her.
The closer she got to the secure stairwell, the more the office crowd thinned out. The people she encountered now were typically working at the Director level—a notch above management, a notch below the executives. She was more cautious here, and began disguising her movements by snagging file folders and papers, studying them as she walked, nodding perfunctorily as she passed anyone who might notice her.
File folders were the clipboards of corporate life—carrying one was essentially a deer-tail signal to everyone who looked your way, flagging you as “someone who is supposed to be here and is also busy, and so should not be bothered.” It didn’t always work, but it helped her move without garnering all that much suspicion.
It went like this for more than an hour—much longer than she had hoped, but less time than she had feared. As she picked her way through the space, several times she had to sidetrack, or divert around people or obstacles in her way. The pace was slow, but she had time. It was better to creep along than to gain attention by appearing to be in a hurry, especially in a place where she wasn’t a familiar face.
Finally, the door for the secured stairwell loomed ahead of her. She had the file folder and papers closed against her side, and her coffee cup in hand. She put the cup on the edge of an empty desk, then angled toward the door.
“Miss?” a woman’s voice came from behind her.
Kayne felt her heart thump. She was so close! But she couldn’t exactly make a break for it. Everyone in this end of the offices would know that the stairwell was secure access, and that not just anyone could go there. If she tried to ignore whoever this was and bee-line to the door, she’d inevitably alert security that something was up. She’d have to deal with this with tact.
She turned to see a middle-aged woman, well-dressed, holding the cup of coffee that Kayne had just set down. “You forgot your coffee.”
Kayne smiled and shook her head. “I’m sorry, thank you! I guess I just have a lot on my mind,” she held up the file folder, as if its contents were the source of all worry and concern.
The woman smiled and held up some file folders of her own. “Don’t we all?”
Kayne laughed lightly and took the cup from her, then turned and moved toward the door. She wasn’t sure what would happen if she just went to it and used her bogus keycard to get in. But… well… why not?
Without looking back, but knowing the woman was watching her the whole way, Kayne stepped up to the door and waved her keycard over the sensor. Then she placed her hand on the biometric sensor plate as she leaned forward and looked into the unblinking eye of a retinal scanner.
The moment of truth.
A blue light blinked brighter, along with a charming little sound, like tiny harp strings. The all-go signs that access was granted.
Kayne opened the door and stepped through, glancing back to see that the woman had, in fact, been watching her every move, likely waiting to see if she actually did have access to this, the most sacred and secure of doors.
Kayne waved with her coffee cup, smiling, and the woman smiled and waved back, before turning to walk away. Apparently she was appeased by the fact that no alarms or sirens went off, and that Kayne had actually been able to enter the forbidden zone. Trust in the system was complete.
As the stairwell door closed, Kayne leaned against it briefly, and let out a breath. Then, file folder and lucky coffee cup still in hand, she made her way down the three flights of steps that would deposit her near the air-gapped lab.
So far, so good.
Though, somehow, she hardly thought this had been the toughest part.