The Singularity Race by Mark de Castrique Page A

two of the three we’ve identified show the same origination source for a money transfer, then we’ve got a potential employer. Maybe even the brains of the whole operation going back to Kim’s disappearance.”
    Even over the phone, Mullins could feel Woodson’s excitement at the prospect of discovering what had happened to his sister. The case was as personal to the young officer as it was to him.
    â€œIs MacArthur handling it?”
    â€œHe’s coordinating. Agents have been dispatched to those countries to see what can be learned on the ground. The Germans are included since Brecht was a victim.”
    â€œWhat about the Pakistanis?”
    â€œThey’re on the sidelines. Nothing indicates this Humanity’s Hope terrorist group has any connection to Pakistan. Pakistani intelligence has enough trouble controlling their own extremists.”
    Mullins found Woodson’s report encouraging. A break or two and the mastermind behind Ted Lewison’s murder would be identified. He could face Elizabeth Lewison and say the full resources of the United States were now targeted on her husband’s killers.
    â€œHow about Kim’s FBI file?” Mullins asked. “Any word?”
    â€œThat’s really why I was late to the library. MacArthur said he has a copy for me. I’m going after it now.”
    â€œIf you learn anything I can help with, for God’s sake tell me.”
    â€œI will, Rusty. Any word on your potential access to that super computer?”
    â€œNo. I guess she didn’t take the job.”
    â€œWell, things look promising,” Woodson said. “We’ll get them.”
    Mullins dropped the phone in his pocket and headed back to the Prius. He hadn’t gone ten steps when he felt the vibration. He grabbed the phone again, thinking Woodson must have forgotten something. But that phone was still. His personal one buzzed on his hip. He snatched it and read “Unidentified Caller” on the screen.
    â€œYes,” he barked.
    â€œMr. Mullins, this is Ned Farino, Mr. Brentwood’s associate. We’re activating you. A car will be by at nine tonight to take you to BWI. You’re flying to Palo Alto and you’ll bring Dr. Li and her nephew back with you.”
    â€œTo Washington?”
    â€œTo where we take you,” he said curtly.
    The hairs rose on Mullins’ neck. He didn’t like flying blind. “And my Glock?”
    â€œYou’re on a private jet. Pack it in your suitcase along with plenty of ammo and clothes for a week. And, Mr. Mullins, welcome aboard.”

Chapter Twelve
    Dr. Lisa Li packed her laptop and two hard drives between layers of clothes, zipped the large suitcase shut, and set it inside the hall closet of her Palo Alto apartment. Then she retrieved Peter’s from his bedroom, placed it beside hers, and closed the door.
    The instructions had been very specific. At midnight, she and Peter were to take the elevator to the ground floor carrying an empty laundry basket as if getting clean clothes from a dryer in the complex’s laundry room. They were to leave the basket and exit through the rear service door to a small loading dock. Rusty Mullins and a driver would be waiting. The luggage in the closet would be picked up by someone else so that no one would see her leaving with suitcases.
    Mullins was the one reassuring element in the plan. Li knew he would also be a calming presence for Peter. The boy didn’t know how upended their lives were about to become.
    The other security man who had come to her apartment with Robert Brentwood the previous night had seemed more like a prison guard than a protector. She’d known his type in China. Self-important. A bully in an Armani suit. Brentwood had called him Jenkins. The stocky man had close-cropped brown hair and penetrating gray eyes. He’d stared at her the whole time Brentwood was talking. For ninety minutes, he uttered not a