Stu had left the computer lab but not the building. Instead, he sat in the break room, watching his phone and waiting for it to ring. He had talked a good game earlier, but now as the minutes ticked by at glacial speed, he started to lose it.
Would this wild-hair of a plan work? And, if not, was there anything else he could do to bring down Felix Duarte? They needed to have something on him that hadn’t come to them by way of Frigg—some other crime for which he could be held responsible outside the realm of Sinaloa where he no doubt had plenty of cops on the payroll. But then Stuart remembered. What about those six unsolved homicides from long ago? That’s when he switched on the Bluetooth and grabbed his iPad.
“Frigg.”
“I’m here, Stuart. How can I help?”
“I want you to send me the names of the six airmen involved in the attacks on Christine Miramar in 1989. I want dates and places of birth along with dates and places of death.”
“Of course. Where would you like me to send the information?”
“To the iPhone I’m using.”
“Will there be anything else?”
“The information you put in the report about the attack on her—that all came from common sources on the Internet, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
When the information arrived, Stu used a pen to copy it onto a piece of paper and then sent Cami a text asking her to come to the break room. When she did, he handed the list to her.
“What’s this?”
“These are the names of all the guys involved in the attack on Graciella’s mother.”
“The dead guys.”
“Right. I want you to do a detailed search. Start with the attack, collect all the information on the court-martials, and then track down everything else you can find on these guys, including the circumstances surrounding their deaths.”
“Why?” Cami asked. “Didn’t Frigg already do this? Isn’t this an unnecessary duplication of effort?”
“It’s a necessary duplication of effort,” Stu told her. “I want you to make all of your searches trackable and don’t erase your browsing history when you finish. I want to be able to demonstrate that anything you find came from readily available sources.”
“Nothing we could have gotten from Frigg?”
“Exactly.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re completely nuts?” Cami asked.
“You more than anybody.”
As Cami left the break room shaking her head and clutching the paper, Stu’s phone began to ring. She turned around. “Do you want me to stay?”
“No, just go,” he said. “I need to do this on my own. Please shut the door.” He waited for it to close before he answered, then switched the phone to record. As long as they seemed to be doing illegal wiretaps right and left, why not add another one to the mix?
“Mr. Ramey?”
It was difficult for him to talk, but he managed, even though the underarms of his shirt were already damp. “Yes.”
“It’s Graciella Miramar. I’m so glad to make your acquaintance.”
“Same here.”
“Do you have the banking codes?”
“I hope you’ll forgive my reluctance to send them over the Internet.”
“Absolutely,” Graciella said. “When it comes to things like that, it’s far better to be safe than sorry. I know the codes are complex, and our connection isn’t the best, but read them to me and I’ll repeat them back to you.”
It was a cumbersome process. By the time it was finished, Stu’s whole shirt was soaked.
“All right,” she said at last. “Let me key these in. Then you’ll be good to go.”
“I’ll be able to access the funds on my own then?”
“Yes, all of them. You can do that directly or you can go through me. I’m here to help with whatever you need.”
“And the Bitcoin mining operation?” Stu asked.
“I’m not sure how that happened, but it’s already in your name.”
Stu knew how it happened—Frigg. And he was pretty sure Graciella knew that was the answer as well. He almost sat on his hands to keep from saying anything about Frigg aloud. Stu knew enough about negotiations to understand that the first party who mentioned the existence of the AI would be the big loser, and he wasn’t wrong. Luckily, Graciella didn’t seem to share that knowledge.
“When Owen Hansen was still alive,” she began, “we discussed the possibility of forming a partnership and creating a business of our own, offering the same kinds of services that are offered by my current employer, Recursos Empresariales Internationales. The plan was for me to bring my financial experience, contacts, and expertise to the endeavor and Owen would bring his AI.”
“Frigg, you mean?” Stuart asked as a drop of sweat ran down his forehead and dribbled into his eye.
“So you know about Frigg?”
“How do you think I got the banking codes? Without her, I would have been out of luck. I had her up and running,” he said, “but I had to shut her back down. She attempted to insert some unauthorized software into our system. As far as I’m concerned, she’s not to be trusted.”
“Would you like to sell her?” Graciella asked.
“Sell her? I just told you, I don’t think she’s trustworthy. Why would anyone want her?”
“Mr. Ramey, I have a client, a man of unlimited means, who would like nothing more than to have an AI of his own. What would it take to set up an operation like that?”
“If I were willing to sell her?”
“Yes.”
“There’d be the initial purchase price.”
“How much?”
“Four million, maybe?” he asked.
“That’s doable,” Graciella replied. “What else?”
“You’d need to have a minimum of eight hundred GPUs—those are computer blades—along with enough electrical capacity to operate them. You’d also need a facility with serious air-conditioning capability. The GPUs run hot, and once they get overheated, they’re toast.”
“What else?”
“AIs are complicated. You’d need a software engineer to do the installation and then ride herd on it.”
“Are you available, Mr. Ramey?” she asked.
“Me?” Stuart echoed.
“How much would my client need to pay you to lure you away from High Noon Enterprises?”
“You’re offering me a job, just like that? You don’t even know me.”
“I know that you were smart enough to reboot Frigg long enough to get the banking codes. That alone is enough to tell me that you’re no dummy. And you’re obviously overseeing the Bitcoin mining operation. So yes, I think your computer skills are pretty self-evident. How much would it take?”
“I don’t know. I’d need to give it some thought.”
“I think, if we could arrive at terms as to sale price and salary requirements, that my client would give you carte blanche in terms of where you put the operation. In other words, if you prefer to stay in the States, that would be fine. Otherwise, if there’s somewhere else you’d care to live—a Caribbean Island, perhaps—that could work as well.”
“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay,” Stu said, “but there’s something you need to know about me. I was raised by my grandfather, and he always insisted that you don’t do business with someone unless you can see them face-to-face and eyeball-to-eyeball. Dealing with the bank accounts was one thing. But this? A job offer? I wouldn’t even consider it without meeting you and the principal in person.”
“If you want to come in for an interview, I’m pretty sure my client would be willing to fly you down to Panama City first-class and put you up in the best hotel possible.”
“Who is your client?”
“Obviously, unless we have a deal on the table, that information must remain confidential.”
“It’s not going to happen, then,” Stu said, pulling back abruptly after hopefully giving her the impression that he had been about to say yes. When Graciella spoke again, even he was able to detect the audible concern in her voice.
“Why not?”
“Because of something else you don’t know about me,” he said. “I’m afraid of flying. Petrified, even. If you want me to consider any of this at all seriously, then you’ll have to come to me.”
“Very well,” Graciella said. “Let me speak to my client. I’ll be in touch.”
Stu ended the call. Then, spent with effort, he slammed the phone down on the table and turned on the Bluetooth. “Frigg.”
“Yes, Stuart. How can I help?”
“I’m going to go take a shower and change clothes. I just recorded a telephone call between me and Graciella Miramar. While I’m gone, I want you to listen to the recording and then give me your analysis when I get back.”
“Sure thing, Stuart,” Frigg said. “I’ll get right on it.”