Chapter Eleven
Former San Jose Mayor, Norman Yoshio Mineta’s parents were born in Japan. As such, they were not allowed to become U.S. citizens due to the Asian Exclusion Act of 1924. During World War II, the Mineta family lived at Heart Mountain Japanese internment camp near Cody, Wyoming along with one hundred and twenty thousand other Japanese Americans who lost everything they had when the U.S. government relocated and incarcerated them in concentration camps. Back then, Norman was a big baseball fan and when he arrived at Heart Mountain, the authorities took away his bat because they told him it could be used as a weapon. Years later, after he was elected to the U.S. House of Representatives, a constituent who knew of the story gave him a bat that was once owned by Hank Aaron. Mineta was forced to return it since it violated the House ban on gifts. At the time he said, “The damn government’s taken my bat again.”
The 737 touched down smoothly at Norman Mineta International Airport in San Jose, California and taxied to Sergei Belenki’s private hangar. The hangar sat adjacent to a ten thousand square foot private “executive” terminal built so the aristocracy of Silicon Valley wouldn’t have to mingle with the riffraff. That was just fine with Severina. Even though she spoke fluent French, collected contemporary art, and knew more about French Pinot Noir than most sommeliers, she wasn’t always so sophisticated.
She wore her cosmopolitan persona like she did her black Dolce & Gabbana suits. She kept her modest upbringing a secret. That kind of background was frowned upon at the elite schools she attended. She grew up in Van Nuys and her father was a plumber. He inherited Angelli and Sons plumbing from his father and was disappointed he didn’t have a son to carry on the Angelli tradition. Her mother worked as a waitress at Dupars in Studio City. Neither went to college, but both were proud of Severina and surprised by her ambition.
She worked hard to lose her Valley Girl accent and studied even harder to get herself into Pomona College. Severina won a scholarship but had to take on a hundred thousand dollars in student loan debt in order to graduate. Her law degree and MBA put her even deeper in debt, which was why she decided to take the venture capital route.
Severina created a sophisticated persona every bit as manufactured as Flynn’s. The difference being she wasn’t delusional. She knew exactly who she was underneath the designer clothes. Flynn didn’t have that kind of self-awareness. Even so, he seemed extremely reasonable. Smart. Charming. Witty. Confident. Much more so than the usual Silicon Valley nerds who seemed so threatened by Severina’s beauty, sophistication, and easy confidence. She knew that at first glance, most people would have no idea Flynn was completely bat-shit crazy.
Severina let Flynn exit the jet first and followed him down the ramp into the private terminal. There were no TSA agents or other security apparatus as most every person who passed through the “executive terminal” was a millionaire or billionaire. Attendants already loaded their luggage into the long black limo that waited for them at the curb.
Dr. Nickelson had to pee. Lately, he always had to urinate. Every hour on the hour. As a young man, Nickelson’s bladder could hold untold quantities of pee. On the long drives between his parent’s home in Sierra Madre and the U of C at Berkeley, he would only have to stop once every six hours. But back then he was a twenty-year-old biology major with a young man’s prostate.
Now he had the swollen prostate of a sixty-three-year-old man. His vim and vigor had turned into piss and vinegar. His puffy prostate blocked his urethra, the tiny tube that carried urine from the bladder into the penis. His stream used to be strong, but now it was weak and slow and often only a dribble.
He would awaken four or five times a night, climb out of bed, and make his way in the dark to the bathroom. Since he didn’t want to disturb Marla, his wife of thirty-five years, he didn’t turn on the light and would often bang his shin or stub his toe on the way there and then she would wake up anyway, irritated as usual.
When Nickelson finally felt his way back to his bed, he’d have trouble returning to sleep. Suffice it to say, peeing was something he spent far too much time thinking about. It didn’t help that Marla made him drink eight glasses of water every day. She said it was good for his kidneys.
When he had to go, he had to go; there was no holding it back. So, when they arrived at San Jose International, he hurried down the ramp ahead of Flynn, rushed into the terminal, found a men’s room, fumbled with his zipper, and released the Kraken (Marla’s pet name for his penis). His stream was weak, but his need was strong. It took him forever to tinkle and that was why he was the last one in the limo.
Nickelson sat his ass down next to Sancho, across from Flynn and Severina. The rear of this limo was just as opulent as the one in Burbank.
“Sorry for the holdup,” Nickelson said somewhat breathlessly. Nickelson glanced through the sliding Plexiglas divider. “Are we still waiting for our driver?”
“There is no driver,” Severina said.
Nickelson raised a curious eyebrow. “So, who’s driving?”
“Daisy.”
“Daisy?”
“Daisy, take us to 1542 Monte Vista Drive in Saratoga, California.”
The car smoothly accelerated and headed out of the private terminal pickup and into general airport traffic. Confusion gripped Nickelson when he saw the steering wheel turn by itself. When he looked at Sancho fear radiated from both of them.
“What the hell is happening?” Sancho blurted. “How the hell are we moving?” He lunged for the door handle, but the doors were locked.
“The doors automatically lock once we start moving,” Severina said.
“But we don’t have a damn driver!” Sancho shouted.
“We don’t need one. This car is autonomous, isn’t it?” Flynn smiled at Severina.
“Yes, it’s Electro Go’s first autonomous limo. I probably should have warned you.”
“Autonomous!” Sancho pressed his face to the window. “You mean it’s driving by itself?”
“Most cars already have many autonomous features.” Severina opened a bottle of Dasani water. “Cruise control. Automatic braking. But this Electro Go is the most advanced driverless vehicle that currently exists.”
Nickelson noticed Sancho starting to lose his shit and put a hand on his knee to calm him. “I’m sure it’s perfectly safe.”
“Safer than having a fallible human drive us,” Flynn pointed out.
“Google, Uber, Tesla, and Electro Go are all competing to capture the autonomous car market,” Severina explained. “This prototype uses radar, sonar, and seventy-seven laser beams combined with hundreds of sensors and cameras all governed by the most advanced artificial intelligence ever developed.”
Sancho’s eyes widened with fear as the limo effortlessly threaded through traffic and exited the airport. “So, the government’s okay with this shit?”
“The California DMV has granted permits to quite a few companies operating driverless vehicles,” Severina replied.
“The safety features are very impressive,” Flynn added. “Automatic emergency braking, forward collision prevention, pedestrian detection, and lane-centering assistance.”
“You’re well informed, Mr. Flynn.”
“I read Popular Mechanics.”
“Shouldn’t somebody be in the driver’s seat in case something goes wrong?”
“Not necessary. Q branch perfected driverless cars years ago, so this is really nothing new, amigo. Sit back and relax. Will we be in Saratoga before you know it.”
As they exited the airport and merged south onto the Bayshore Freeway, Nickelson watched as Flynn turned his charm on Severina. She was resistant, but Flynn was persistent. He had only ever met two women totally immune to Flynn’s charms. Nurse Durkin and his secretary, Miss Honeywell.
“Beautiful name, Severina.” Flynn leaned towards her and their shoulders touched. “I once knew a Severine. Beautiful as well. But unfortunately, she came to a very sad end.”
“Severina was my great grandmother’s name. She was from Amalfi.”
“But you were born here?”
“Southern California. As was my grandfather.”
“You seem quite fit. Are you a runner?”
“I am. Every morning. Three miles a day.”
“But you were a dancer once, weren’t you?”
“How can you tell?”
“Your posture. The way you move. Ballet?”
“When I was a girl.”
“And now?”
“Now I practice Krav Maga.”
“Krav Maga?” Flynn was impressed.
“What’s that?” Sancho asked.
“It’s a defense and fighting system developed by the Israeli Defense forces,” Flynn explained. “It combines techniques from boxing, wrestling, judo, and karate and is designed to work down and dirty in real world situations. It’s extremely efficient and even more effective. I practice a variation myself. It emphasizes aggression. Taking an enemy out as quickly as possible by targeting the body’s most vulnerable points. You attack preemptively and keep fighting until your opponent is completely incapacitated.”
“A woman needs to know how to defend herself,” Severina said.
“Indeed, she does. It’s a dangerous world.”
Nickelson heard a distant buzzing sound – a bit like a bee. Or a couple of bees. The bees grew louder and Nickelson realized they weren’t bees at all. They were motorcycles. He looked past Severina out the back window of the Electro Go Limo and spotted two motorcycles approaching so fast it almost seemed as if the limo wasn’t moving at all.
Flynn glanced out the back window as well. “Down! Everyone down!”
Nickelson stared dumbfounded as the twin motorcycles pulled up on either side of the Electro Go. Each bike carried two riders in black leather. One held the handlebars and the other held something else. At first Nickelson wasn’t sure what it was. He pressed his nose up against the glass to get a better look. Sancho grabbed him by the neck and pushed him down a second before the submachine gun roared. Bullets ricocheted off the ballistic glass and peppered the side of the car.
“Oh, my God!” Nickelson screamed. “They’re shooting at us!”
Since the car was autonomous, it didn’t accelerate or react in any way to the violent attack. It stayed in the center of the lane and proceeded apace at a safe and sensible speed. Each flattened bullet created a concentric ring of white cracks that obscured the view through the glass.
Flynn shouted over the roar of the machine guns. “Down! Get down! It’s only a matter of time before that ballistic glass shatters!” On cue, one of the windows began to buckle under the onslaught of hot lead.
Flynn lifted his knee and kicked the glass divider that separated them from the front seat. He kicked as hard as he could, again and again as the machine guns continued to roar.
Nickelson watched the motorcycle on the left accelerate ahead of the Electro Go as the limo held steady at a sober sixty-five miles an hour. The passenger aimed his weapon at the windshield and fired, presumably in an attempt to take out the limo driver. But there was no driver, just a stupid AI blithely driving them to their doom.
Severina joined Flynn in kicking the divider until finally it broke free and fell into the front. James followed after it, climbing into the driver’s seat, taking the wheel and putting the pedal to the metal. The car accelerated, lurching forward and then violently slowed down as the autonomous AI took back control and hit the brakes.
A pleasant female voice came over the speaker box in the back. “I’m sorry, but the speed limit on the Nimitz Freeway is sixty-five miles an hour.” Flynn gritted his teeth and hit the pedal again. The car bolted forward before the AI slammed on the brakes again. “I’m sorry, but the speed limit on the Nimitz Freeway is sixty-five miles an hour.”
“Shit!” shouted Sancho.
“Bloody stupid AI!” Flynn growled. A bullet penetrated the passenger side window, flew past Flynn’s face and into the ballistic glass on the driver’s side. Shards of Plexiglas stung his cheek as the slug ricocheted into the dashboard. “Bloody hell!”
Severina pushed a terrified Nickelson to the floor before more bullets could penetrate the glass.
Flynn wrenched the steering wheel in an attempt to ram the bike on the right, but the Electro Go wouldn’t let him and yanked the car back into the center of the lane, calmly explaining why. “It is unsafe to change lanes at this time as there appears to be a vehicle in the adjacent lane.”
“I know there’s a bloody vehicle! I’m trying to hit the damn thing!”
He tried to wrest control of the wheel away from the AI and bang into the motorcycle, but the Electro Go forced them back into the proper lane once again. “It is unsafe to change lanes at this time as there appears to be a vehicle in the adjacent lane.”
Another bullet penetrated the glass and flew just above Severina’s head before burying itself into a seat.
“What do we do?” she screamed.
“We’re all going to die!” Nickelson cried.
Sancho shouted in Nickelson’s face. “What did I say! What did I tell you? I told you. Didn’t I tell you!”
“Everyone! Just calm down,” Flynn commanded.
Nickelson never before felt this kind of fear. He started to cry as epinephrine coursed through his system, telling his body to fight or flee, but he was too scared to fight and had nowhere to flee. He was trapped in a limo too smart for its own good and all that hormone did was make him sick to his stomach.
The passenger on the motorcycle just ahead of them peppered the windshield with machine gun fire, filling the Plexiglas with multiple concentric rings that clouded the view through the glass. Flynn fruitlessly flattened the gas again in an attempt to hit their assailant, but the Electro Go wasn’t having it and reduced its speed back to a lawful and sane sixty-five miles an hour. “Please keep a safe distance from the vehicle ahead,” said the pleasant female voice.
Flynn looked back over the seat at Sancho, Severina, and Nickelson piled on top of each other on the floor. He had no way to protect them and didn’t know what to tell them. The part of his personality that was Jimmy nearly emerged in a panic, but James forced Jimmy back down before he could get them all killed.
The limo slowed down suddenly and changed lanes behind the motorcycle on the right before merging onto the Junipero Serra Freeway, heading west.
The motorcycles cut past traffic to follow.
Flynn watched them through the rear window as both passengers reloaded their machine guns. “Severina!”
She didn’t answer him.
Flynn shouted to her again. “Severina!”
“What?”
“How do I override this system!”
“I don’t know.”
“Who would?”
“Sergei.”
“Call him. Now!
The motorcycles accelerated. The muzzle flashes of the twin machine guns glinted seconds before bullets peppered the back window of the limo.
“Oh, my God!” Nickelson shouted, holding his hands over his ears.
“Sancho!” Flynn called.
“What?”
“On top the rear seats! Are those releases?”
“Where?”
“On either side! See if they allow you to lower the seats!”
“Why?”
“Why are you asking me so many questions?”
“Because I don’t want to die!” Sancho shouted.
“Then lower the bloody seats and get my carry-on out of the trunk! Let’s go! Chop chop!”
Severina married her smartphone to the computer tablet installed in the rear seat and called Belenki by initiating a Blinky Face to Face call. Almost instantly Belenki’s irritated face appeared. “Can’t talk now. I’m in the middle of a meeting.” He hung up and his face disappeared from the monitor.
“Shit!’ Severina screamed and immediately initiated another Blinky Face to Face.
Belenki’s face popped up again. He looked put out. “What did I just say? I told you I was—”
“Shut up and listen to me!”
Belenki’s expression of irritation turned to one of surprise. No one ever talked to him that way. “Did you just tell me to shut up?”
“We are under attack in your stupid-ass autonomous Electro Go and we need to take back control.”
“Under attack?”
“How do we do that?” Sancho shouted.
“Do what?”
“People are shooting us,” Severina snarled. “How do we take control of this car!”
“Who?”
“Who what?”
“Who is shooting?”
“What does it matter?”
“This is Flynn! How do we override the AI!”
“It’s in the code. It’s a voice command. All you have to say is Daisy, initiate—”
A single bullet pierced the rear window’s ballistic glass and hit Belenki square in the face, shattering the tablet in a shower of electrical sparks.
“Oh, no, no, no!” Nickelson screamed.
“Who’s Daisy?” Sancho said.
“It’s our Siri,” Severina said. “Our Alexa. It’s the name Belenki gave to our AI.”
“Initiate what?” Nickelson wanted to know. “What’s the command?”
“Daisy,” Flynn said. “Initiate manual override.”
“Sorry, but I do not understand your command,” Daisy said.
Daisy continued to cruise at the sixty-five mile an hour speed limit even as their attackers raked the Electro Go with continuous machine gun fire. The ballistic glass buckled as individual bullets exploded through and whizzed over their heads.
“Daisy,” Flynn tried again. “Initiate manual control!”
“Sorry, but I do not understand the command.”
“Daisy!” Severina cried. “Initiate manual operation!”
“Sorry, but I do not understand the command.”
“Daisy!” Sancho screamed. “Stop the motherfucking car!”
“I’m sorry,” Daisy replied pleasantly. “But I do not respond well to profanity.”
“Are you trying to kill us?” Sancho shouted.
“Of course not. My first priority is the safety of every passenger.”
Bullets flew overhead in the passenger compartment as Flynn stayed down and unzipped his carry-on. He pulled out the dental floss garrote made from the strongest, nylon monofilament in existence. After unraveling a few feet, he wrapped it tightly around his hand.
Flynn took advantage of the temporary lull in the shooting to pop up and see where their enemies were. One motorcycle rode parallel to the driver’s side. Flynn used his elbow to knock out what was left the shattered ballistic glass. The passenger on the bike looked up at him as he reloaded his weapon.
Flynn winged the floss dispenser out the window and over the wrist of the man wielding the machine gun. The dispenser wrapped around his wrist multiple times before Flynn tugged it tight, pulling as hard as he could. The man didn’t want to let go of his gun and pulled back hard.
The floss snapped and he hit the driver in the side of his head with his weapon, knocking him right off the bike. The passenger lunged for the handlebars as the bike went down. Flynn glanced back to see both the passenger and the driver skidding and tumbling down the freeway along with their motorcycle.
Flynn pushed in the car’s cigarette lighter and then reached into his carry-on. He removed the tube of toothpaste that contained Q’s C-5. After unscrewing the cap, he squeezed a giant wad of it into his hand. The scent of mint filled the limo as Flynn knocked out what was left of the window on the passenger side with his elbow.
The roar of the motorcycle riding parallel to them was thunderous. The killer riding in the rear raised his weapon as Flynn tossed the handful of goop at him.
The white minty blob hit the gun-wielding thug square in the face, right in the eyes, blinding him. The cigarette lighter popped out, indicating it was red-hot and ready to set something ablaze. Flynn grabbed it and threw it out the window, aiming at the face of the now blinded assassin, hoping to ignite the C-5.
But the hot lighter just bounced off his face and down the back of the driver’s jacket. The man went rigid as the lighter seared his flesh. Letting go with one hand, he reached down the back of his jacket and lost control of the bike. Veering right, he crashed into the guardrail, sending himself and his passenger tumbling into the air, over the side of the embankment, followed by their motorcycle. The crash tore open the gas tank and the fuel ignited a dramatic cinematic explosion. Flynn smiled grimly.
“Well, they went out in a blaze of glory.”
Sancho, Severina, and Nickelson stared at Flynn in dumbfounded relief as Daisy continued to drive them down the highway at a safe and sober sixty-five miles an hour.