Invasion of Privacy Read Free Page A

record?”
    “
Expunged
is the word,” said Joe. “And yes, both have been expunged from your record.”
    “That was cheap,” said Stark. “Preying on a man’s weaknesses like that.”
    “A guy like you can’t afford to hire a driver? That’s the second time you were popped in the past twelve months. And next time make sure your date isn’t a minor.”
    The DUI was their way in, the chink in the enemy’s armor. Stark was right. It was cheap, but Joe had to use what he was given. He’d yet to meet an informant who volunteered his services of his own free will.
    “The pressure,” said Stark. “You have no idea. He’s relentless. Always more. Always better. Always faster. He’s not human, I swear it. He’s some kind of superman. No…a
supermachine
. Men have feelings. He says he’s beyond feeling. He’s proud of it. He says he’s ‘becoming.’ Can you believe that? Becoming
what
?”
    “Okay, Hal. Let’s calm down. Just begin at the beginning. You’ll feel better once it’s off your chest.”
    “And you expunged the felony, too?”
    Yes, Joe said. He had.
    Hal Stark sat up straighter. “All right, then, the first thing you need to know is that you don’t know the half of it. What you guys found—the reason you came after me—that’s the tip of the iceberg…no, no…the tip of the tip.”
    Joe took this in without comment. He felt the hackles on his neck stand up as they always did when he was about to get the goods. “Go on.”
    “The incursion…well, you know that wasn’t the first time, don’t you?”
    The incursion referred to a hack of the FBI’s mainframe eight months earlier that had triggered the red flags and gotten Semaphore off the ground.
    “Of course,” Joe lied. “Exactly how long has it been going on?”
    Stark laughed. “You didn’t know. Well, like I said, he’s a supermachine. Amazing you found it in the first place.”
    “We’re no slouches ourselves.”
    “You might want to reserve comment until I’m done.”
    Joe looked away, drawn by the rustling of the large tumbleweed. Finally a breeze. He glanced at the windmill, but the wheel didn’t budge. He looked back and the tumbleweed was still.
    “What is it?” asked Stark.
    “Nothing,” said Joe. “Keep going.”
    “It’s all about the company we just bought. The one that caused all the headlines.”
    “Merriweather,” said Joe.
    “Yeah, it builds the fastest supercomputer in the world, called Titan. He’s got plans for it.” Stark shook his head. “You won’t believe it.”
    “We’re going to need a bigger boat.”
    “You sure as hell are,” said Stark.
    Joe kept his eyes on the tumbleweed. He decided the heat was playing tricks on him. Nothing moved without wind pushing it. There was no wind, so the tumbleweed couldn’t have inched closer. He razzed himself for being paranoid. Once a sniper, always a sniper. Dripping Springs was not Iraq. Smiling, he looked back at Stark and saw it: a thin column of dust rising into the air five hundred yards behind them. Someone was approaching on the inbound road.
    “Everything okay?” asked Stark.
    “Shut up.” Joe picked up his phone. “Boots, that you?”
    “Boots” was Keefe’s nickname, earned God knows how or when.
    No one responded.
    “Boots, come back.”
    Stark turned halfway around in his seat to peer out the back window.
    “Get down,” said Joe, as he drew his weapon and thumbed the safety off.
    “What’s going on?” asked Stark, eyes locked on the pistol. “I thought you said no one followed me.”
    Joe started the car. “Buckle your seat belt. The ride may get a little bumpy.”
    Stark muttered something, then elbowed the door open and threw himself out of the car.
    “Get back here,” said Joe.
    “I can take care of myself.”
    “Get inside.”
    Stark looked around the clearing. “Government never protected anyone. I can take care of myself.”
    “Give me the drive.”
    “Go screw yourself. I was an idiot to trust