Chapter 17 - THE WOMAN AT MY DESK
Madeline made it to the parking garage.
Grace caught her before she reached the exit.
For four years, Madeline Shaw had managed my calendar.
She knew my doctors.
My meetings.
My travel.
My security preferences.
She had sent flowers when Clara was born.
She had held my hand before congressional testimony.
And she had sold my daughter’s location for $2.7 million.
When federal agents brought her into the conference room, she was crying.
“I didn't know they would take Clara.”
I stared at her.
“What exactly did you think they wanted her nursery schedule for?”
“I thought it was leverage.”
“Against whom?”
“You.”
“At least you're finally telling the truth.”
Madeline wiped her face.
“They told me nobody would get hurt.”
“People who say that are usually preparing to hurt someone.”
She looked down.
“I'm sorry.”
I felt nothing.
Apologies had become cheap currency in my life.
Jake was sorry.
My parents were sorry.
Madeline was sorry.
Everyone became sorry after the cost landed on me.
“Who recruited you?”
“Howard.”
“Who recruited Howard?”
“I don't know.”
“Who does Adrian report to?”
“I don't know.”
I stood.
Madeline panicked.
“Wait.”
I stopped.
“There is something.”
“What?”
“A meeting.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow night.”
“Where?”
She hesitated.
Grace stepped closer.
“Madeline.”
“The Vance Foundation gala.”
My blood chilled.
The Vance Foundation.
My charitable foundation.
Five hundred guests.
Politicians.
Executives.
Researchers.
Journalists.
And Clara was scheduled to appear with me during the opening presentation.
“They planned something at my gala?”
Madeline nodded.
“What?”
“I don't know.”
“Try harder.”
“All Howard said was that tomorrow night Emily Vance would finally understand what Lighthouse can do.”
I canceled Clara’s appearance.
I did not cancel the gala.
Grace hated that decision.
“It’s bait.”
“Yes.”
“You're the bait.”
“Yes.”
“You're strangely comfortable with that.”
“I've had practice.”
The gala took place at the Getty Center.
Five hundred guests arrived.
Cameras flashed.
I wore black.
Not because I wanted to look intimidating.
Because Clara had spit mashed banana on the white dress twenty minutes before I left.
Motherhood had a sense of humor.
At 8:30, I stepped onto the stage.
Applause.
I smiled.
“Thank you.”
My prepared speech was about ethical technology.
I abandoned it.
“Tonight, I want to discuss prediction.”
The room quieted.
“Technology companies love prediction. What customers will buy. Where traffic will move. Which markets will grow.”
Grace watched from backstage.
Federal agents circulated invisibly.
“But there is a line between predicting behavior and stealing freedom.”
Several faces changed.
Good.
“Tonight, Aegis Innovations is releasing a complete independent audit of every behavioral-data system inherited from Carter Dynamics.”
A murmur moved through the room.
“And tomorrow morning, we will provide federal regulators with unrestricted access to those archives.”
Someone near the rear exit left quickly.
Grace followed.
I continued.
“Privacy isn't an obstacle to innovation.”
Applause began.
“It is the price of deserving trust.”
The screens behind me suddenly went black.
Not planned.
Grace shouted into my earpiece.
“Emily, get offstage.”
Then my father appeared on the screen.
Gasps.
The world believed Thomas Vance was dead.
His face filled a forty-foot display.
“Emily.”
Every camera turned toward me.
My nightmare became public.
Dad continued.
“If this message is playing, Adrian has activated Lighthouse.”
The audience erupted.
I stood frozen.
“The system has been embedded in infrastructure across twelve American cities for seven years.”
People began shouting.
Phones appeared everywhere.
“It has monitored millions of citizens without their knowledge.”
Chaos.
Then another voice interrupted.
Adrian.
Live.
“Thank you, Elias.”
His face replaced Dad’s.
“Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to demonstrate.”
A map appeared.
Los Angeles.
Thousands of moving dots.
Real people.
Phones.
Cars.
Locations.
My stomach turned.
Adrian selected one dot.
A woman in the audience screamed.
Her own photograph appeared.
Her home address.
Her children's school.
Her predicted route home.
This was monstrous.
“Turn it off!” someone shouted.
Adrian smiled.
“This is the world your data created.”
I walked toward the microphone.
“No.”
His eyes moved toward me.
“This is the world you created.”
“Emily.”
“You built a cage and called it intelligence.”
“You built the key.”
“Then watch me break it.”
I looked at Grace.
She understood.
We activated the kill protocol.
Every Aegis legacy node shut down simultaneously.
The map began disappearing.
One city.
Then another.
Adrian’s expression finally changed.
“No.”
I smiled.
There it was.
Fear.
“You wanted to know whether I was scared?”
More dots vanished.
“I was.”
Another city went dark.
“And then you mentioned my daughter.”
The final node disappeared.
The screen went black.
The audience erupted.
Then emergency alarms sounded.
Grace grabbed me.
“Bomb threat.”
Five hundred people began evacuating.
Outside, police surrounded the building.
I thought Adrian was trying to create chaos.
I was wrong.
During the evacuation, my phone rang.
Mom.
I answered.
“Emily.”
She was crying.
“Mom?”
“Your father is gone.”
“What?”
“Adrian found us.”
My blood froze.
“He took your father.”
“Where?”
Mom sobbed.
May you like
Then whispered:
“He's bringing him to you.”
