Free The Singularity Race by Mark de Castrique

go straight to the President. That connection seems to be a sore spot.”
    Mullins realized Agent Dawkins had gotten his message to Brighton without delay, and he in turn had yanked the vice admiral’s chain. Allen Woodson sitting in his living room was the result.
    â€œWhere are you staying?” Mullins asked.
    â€œYou could say ground zero—the JW Marriott. MacArthur’s given me a temporary office in Naval Intelligence. I’ll be able to access databases. If possible, I’ll make my scheduled calls to Kayli. MacArthur routed the one this morning through a satellite to create the proper delay. It’s killing me that Kayli and Josh are less than a mile away and I can’t see them.”
    â€œWhy the extreme secrecy?”
    â€œSo there’s no connection to you. You have no standing. We’re violating almost every security clearance code. This is all off the books.”
    â€œDid MacArthur brief you on what they know so far?”
    â€œThe getaway van was found in southeast near the navy yard. It was wiped clean. Two of the dead had fingerprint hits with Interpol.”
    â€œI knew that,” Mullins grumbled.
    â€œNo IDs on the bodies. They figure passports and other documentation would all be fake and were probably waiting in the van. Best guess is the team was dispatched from Europe. The credit for the killings popped up from an Internet café in Amsterdam. Of course, there’s no record of who posted it. I would suspect the killers were to be paid through a Swiss account.”
    â€œThey’d need expense money and probably half up front.”
    â€œYes,” Woodson agreed, “but no link’s been found.”
    â€œFacial recognition?”
    â€œScanned all custom entry points for the previous three months.”
    â€œWhat about Mexico?”
    â€œYou mean did they penetrate our border from there?”
    â€œYes. Ten million undocumented residents show it’s not like breaking into Fort Knox. Or Canada like the 9/1l terrorists.” Mullins paused as a thought struck him. “New Hampshire borders Canada.”
    Woodson leaned forward, eyes locked on Mullins. “You think Kim’s disappearance might be tied to some terrorist smuggling route?”
    â€œAt this point I don’t think anything,” Mullins said. “All I remember is your sister was working on the disappearance of two MIT scientists, one of whom had a cottage on Little Lake Sunapee, and they found her car behind a summer playhouse nearby. We need more data before forming a theory. The other way around and we’re simply fooling ourselves.”
    â€œI know,” Woodson admitted. “But aren’t you fooling yourself? How are you funding an international investigation? What are your resources? Your laptop?”
    Mullins allowed a smug smile. “Money is no problem, and I’m utilizing the most sophisticated computer equipment in the world.”
    For a second, Woodson could only stare at his father-in-law in wonder. “I guess we all have our secrets.”
    â€œYes, and if you don’t go running back tattling to MacArthur, I’ll tell you a few.”
    ***
    While Mullins and his son-in-law drank their beer, three time zones and two thousand four hundred miles to the west Lisa Li and Peter returned to her apartment from a spring kite-flying festival at a nearby Palo Alto park.
    Li thanked her security guard, opened the door, and stepped on a manila envelope lying just inside the threshold.
    â€œIs it another package from Mr. Mullins?” Peter removed his new Washington Nationals baseball cap that FedEx had delivered that morning.
    â€œNo.” Li picked it up quickly. “Probably something from work. Why don’t you go in the bedroom and start pulling your clothes together? I want you packed tonight since you’re leaving so early in the morning.”
    â€œAnd it will be Monday morning when I land. I still want