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  The silence in the room was deafening. The demeanor of the meeting had gone from tense to exasperated, all within the first twenty minutes. In fact, it had gotten so quiet, Morgan could hear the wall clock ticking above her head.

  Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

  At the head of the table, President Tolley shuffled around a stack of papers, probably in an effort to delay her inevitable intervention for as long as possible. She placed her reading glasses on the table and turned to William Grayson, her director of national intelligence and one of her go-to advisors.

  “Bill, you mentioned earlier this morning that your team was attempting to identify the true source of the tweets posted to the China Xinhua News handle. Have you had any luck?”

  Morgan marveled at Tolley’s ability to pretend as if a major blowout between her top two advisors hadn’t even happened. With the president doggedly focused on the mission at hand, neither Whitaker nor Burke would dare return to bickering. At least for now.

  She’s definitely a shrewd operator.

  Grayson cleared his throat and smiled as if he’d expected her to call on him. “Ma’am, we’re still analyzing patterns in the post metadata from the IP address and haven’t been able to confirm with absolute certainty where the tweets came from.”

  Sitting behind her boss, Morgan could tell David cringed internally. As the president’s national security advisor, he’d felt slighted the past few days with President Tolley leaning so heavily on Grayson instead of him.

  Earlier that morning, David had complained to Morgan about the director of national intelligence finding a way to steal his seat next to the president, a move that relegated David to the far end of the table. Lately, her boss had been acting deflated. It was as if his self-confidence had died with Monroe, and he didn’t quite know how to find his bearings in a new administration. Morgan wondered if David would find the wherewithal to fight for his position of influence.

  I doubt it.

  David wasn’t the aggressive sort. It was a miracle he’d reached such a powerful position in the government.

  Tolley raised an eyebrow. “Absolute certainty? Bill, before you were certain the posts came from the Chinese government. Does that mean you have a new theory?”

  “Actually, we received some intel from a Chinese counterpart in the Ministry of State Security about an hour ago, claiming their Twitter handle was hacked this morning,” Grayson said. “They believe the user to be a Russian FSB agent.”

  Several mouths dropped around the table. Morgan frowned at the new development.

  Why would the Russian government hack China’s official communication?

  “Are they sure?” Whitaker asked, her forehead creasing. “After many years of assisting China in bringing its nuclear triad online, Russia maintains a close relationship. Granted, they’ve had some tense moments over the U.S.-China clean energy deal in recent months. But I can’t imagine the Russian government would attempt to infiltrate Chinese official communication channels in order to antagonize the United States. It doesn’t make any sense. Remember that China still depends on Russia for technical expertise on their early warning systems. And Russia depends on China for its advanced military drones.”

  “Did they give you the identity of the agent?” Burke asked.

  Grayson shook his head. “No.”

  “Well, that’s convenient, now isn’t it?” Burke said snidely. “Just blame it on the Russians. I bet if we asked the Chinese government through official channels about the tweets, they’ll tell us absolutely nothing. They do love playing the blame game.”

  “Actually, we’re inclined to agree the Russians are behind the posts as part of a disinformation campaign,” Grayson said.

  “But why would the Russians risk intensifying a conflict between us right now?” Whitaker asked, raising an eyebrow. “A nuclear exchange between China and the United States is definitely not in Russia’s interest. Remember how other countries treated us and the Soviets during the Cold War? With kid gloves. The Russian government couldn’t possibly expect to escape nuclear war between the U.S. and China unscathed. For that reason, they would never risk starting one.”

  Morgan’s eyes widened. Good point. What would be Russia’s endgame here?

  “The Chinese source is not the only tangible reason for our suspicions,” Grayson continued. “We’ve analyzed web activity at the IP address from which the tweets were posted. From that IP, the user posted on several other platforms as well. But we also found posts from the same profiles from IP addresses located just inside the Russian border, near the city of Vladivostok. It’s only about two hundred miles from the Chinese city of Harbin to the Russian border and another hundred miles to Vladivostok.”

  “In other words, if a Russian agent found a way to sneak across the border, he or she could get in and out of China within several hours to upload the posts and make it look like they came from the Chinese government,” David piped up from across the table.

  Morgan cringed at his obvious desperation. David was trying to appear useful but had just failed miserably.

  Grayson nodded. “That border area is mountainous and covered with thick forest. It wouldn’t be hard to find a place to cross into China and back undetected.”

  Tolley leaned forward with her hands folded. “I’ll be meeting with the Chinese ambassador for lunch today to discuss the unfortunate situation in Hong Kong as well as these posts. If we can assume for now that the tweets didn’t come from the Chinese government, why don’t we move on to more pressing matters?”

  Everyone around the table nodded in agreement.

  “Bill, have we found any sign of those submarines?” Tolley asked.

  Morgan suppressed a grimace. We’ve lost track of China’s submarines?

  Grayson shook his head. “No, ma’am, but we have as many eyes looking for them as possible. We’ve reached out to Canada with the help of Beth’s staff at the State Department. The Canadian Navy is now on high alert and searching for them as well.”

  Morgan pressed her lips together.

  What are those submarines up to?

  15

  Autopsy Results

  TORI

  0720

  Homeland Network News

  Washington D.C.

  The cameraman signaled to Tori that The Counter View was about to go back on the air. Just then, the executive producer rushed onto the set, slid a note across the news desk toward her, and then ran back off set. Tori glanced at it quickly, but didn’t have time to read its full contents before looking up to face the camera.

  “We’re live in five… four… three… two… one.” The cameraman pointed to Tori.

  Smiling at the camera, Tori said, “A rowdy group of protesters were camped overnight outside the White House early this morning. They are hoping to sway President Tolley’s decision to veto the autonomous weapons legislation—something they’ve named the Killer Robot Directive. I had the opportunity to speak with one of them about the dangers of killer robots. Let’s see what message he had for the president.” Tori cued the video footage, which played on the screen behind her.

  A slight pang of guilt pierced Tori’s gut when she thought of the editing hack job her executive producer had done to the footage. Tori had hoped to contribute to an important discussion with some of Drew’s insights about the data problem for AI-enabled systems, but her producer insisted they stick to controversy—it was the bread and butter of The Counter View, after all.

  The clip showed Drew looking into the camera, saying, “Today, President Tolley wants to authorize the Pentagon to unleash the Terminator. But we already know how those movies end. Humans die.” The video footage ended abruptly.

  “That was Drew Hudson, a graduate student at Georgetown University, expressing his views on the dangerous prospects of fully autonomous weapons,” Tori said, suppressing a wince.

  Emilio sighed heavily. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Humans will die if we give autonomous machines the ability to make kill decis
ions. But I predict far more deaths if we don’t field these weapon systems. If we fail to act now and deploy these systems, millions of Americans will die in a future war with China or Russia. If we allow other countries to gain the advantage of machine speed, it will be game over for us on the battlefield. Is that what these protesters want? To lie in their graves, forever comforted by their own morality?”

  Tori nearly laughed out loud at his sarcasm but managed to keep her face slack. This time, he wasn’t entirely wrong, but she would never admit it on air. “Well, we may not have to worry about that scenario,” she said, pointing to her tablet. “The autonomous weapons bill just passed Senate about forty minutes ago, and it’s expected to arrive on President Tolley’s desk for her signature. Most experts believe the president will sign it without hesitation. Emilio, do you think the protesters have any shot at changing Tolley’s mind?”

  Emilio shook his head, pressing his lips together. “Oh, definitely not. There’s a reason only a few hundred demonstrators showed up to protest against autonomous weapons systems.”

  Tori seized the opportunity to read the note from her executive producer, and her face blanched. She grabbed her tablet and began searching the news headlines. She didn’t have to look very long. The breaking news was splashed across every news site and was spreading across the internet like wildfire.

  “That’s because most people understand the necessity,” Emilio continued, unaware of the latest development. “We may not like the idea of robots killing humans, but we’d also prefer not to become slaves to China or Russia someday either. That’s why the bill was so popular in Congress and generated unprecedented cooperation across the aisle. If Tolley knows what’s good for her new administration, she’ll just sign the bill.”

  Tori absorbed the headlines while listening for Emilio to finish talking. Suddenly, she perceived the awkward silence around her and looked up. “Of course, she’d also be honoring President Monroe’s memory,” she said, glancing at Emilio, who was now staring at the tablet in front of him, his eyes growing wide.

  He’s seen it, too.

  “Some breaking news just came in over the wire,” he said slowly, as if stunned. “There’s been a new development in the investigation into President Monroe’s death this morning. The medical examiner at the Bethesda Naval Hospital in Maryland just announced that she has completed the initial toxicology report. She remains unable to point to an exact cause of cardiac arrest but may have a potential lead from the president’s blood panels. The toxicology report came back mostly normal, but Monroe had traces of chloroquine in his bloodstream.”

  “Chloroquine?” Tori asked. “Isn’t that medicine used for the prevention of malaria?”

  Emilio nodded. “The president’s physician explained that Monroe was planning to travel to South Africa next week, where he would spend some time in areas with malaria present and was taking chloroquine as a precautionary measure.”

  Tori furrowed her brow as she recalled the side effects of malaria meds—the headaches and extreme fatigue. She’d experienced these when she traveled to Tanzania the previous year for a safari vacation. “Why is this relevant to his death?” she asked.

  Looking back down at his tablet, Emilio said, “Apparently, chloroquine has a narrow therapeutic index.”

  “Can you translate what that means for our viewers?” Tori asked, narrowing her eyes.

  Emilio nodded. “According to the medical examiner, it means that there is a small difference between a therapeutic and a lethal dose of the medicine. A lethal dose can cause immediate cardiac arrest in people with no history of heart problems.”

  “Are you suggesting the president might have died of an overdose of his malaria medicine?” Tori asked, the blood draining from her face.

  Emilio shrugged. “Perhaps. The medical examiner said that there is no need for alarm at this time. Chloroquine is not usually detected on comprehensive toxicology screening. She ran the additional test because of the president’s list of medications and screened him specifically for the presence of the chemical compound. She says they are looking closely at the levels of the compound throughout his organs to determine whether the medicine caused his heart attack.”

  From behind the glass, the executive producer signaled it was time to wrap things up. Tori breathed a sigh of relief. She never liked it when she and Emilio were compelled to cover breaking news without any prep. Especially news of such magnitude.

  She turned her face back to the camera and faked a smile. “Stay with HNN for more breaking news on Hong Kong, President Tolley’s decision on the autonomous weapons bill, and further news on the investigation of President Monroe’s death. How does artificial intelligence help prevent nuclear war? Also, coming up, an in-depth analysis on the latest test of the Department of Defense’s Autonomous Retaliatory Capability. Stay tuned, HNN Action News is next.”

  The executive producer came dashing out of the sound booth and gave them a thumbs-up. “Great work, you two. People are already tweeting about the suspicious circumstances behind President Monroe’s death. This is going to blow up the internet.”

  Tori suppressed a sigh.

  That’s great work?

  16

  Mutual Assured Destruction

  DREW

  0755

  Georgetown University

  Washington D.C.

  Drew dropped his green backpack on the floor, set his coffee cup on the table, and sank into a seat in the front row of his graduate class on the politics of national security. Somehow, he’d made it all the way to Georgetown’s campus in Foggy Bottom a bit early, and the classroom was still empty.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about his conversation with the anti-nuclear protester. She had him wondering if the Campaign Against Killer Robots could ever effect positive change through demonstrations.

  Was she right about it all being useless? How come we haven’t eliminated nuclear weapons yet?

  He thought about how she explained what she would have done differently had she known the results of her efforts in advance.

  But what else can I do?

  Drew had often thought an internship might be a better way to channel his passion against the development of autonomous weapons systems. But he wasn’t sure he could fit yet another obligation into his already busy schedule. Most internships at think tanks in D.C. were unpaid, giving an unfair advantage to those possessing the financial means to work for free. Unlike many of his fellow students, Drew had to work nearly full time to support his graduate studies. The cost of living expenses inside the Beltway was out of control and weren’t covered by student loans.

  Between classes at Georgetown, mounds of homework, and daily shifts as a server at Octane Grill, an upscale restaurant located near the White House, he’d found it possible to slip in a demonstration here and there. It gave him the sense that he was doing something—even if it wasn’t much in the grander scheme of things.

  But what if I’m not achieving anything tangible?

  Students filed into the classroom followed by the professor, who set his briefcase on the desk at the front of the room. He began writing on the whiteboard: “Does nuclear deterrence work?”

  Drew smiled as his good friend Jay took the seat next to him. He still appeared to be wearing his clothes from the day before, and his ash blond dreads looked even more matted than usual.

  Jay spent most of his time studying environmental science with the hope of becoming a marine biologist. He’d only taken the class on national security to check the box on his last social sciences core requirement. But mostly, he wanted to “see what all the fuss was about” after Drew wouldn’t stop raving about the professor.

  “Dude, you know you’re famous right now, don’t you?” Jay asked, clapping him on the back.

  “What do you mean?” Drew asked.

  “Your video clip went viral on social media this morning. It was featured on The Counter View. Didn’t you see it?”

  Drew sat in st
unned silence for a moment.

  “You interviewed with Tori Scott this morning? Here, take a look,” Jay said, handing him the smartphone.

  His hands trembling, Drew clasped the phone and pressed play. He blanched when he saw himself appear on the screen, his name in bold orange letters at the bottom. His light-brown hair was disheveled, and there were dark circles under his pale blue eyes from a terrible night of sleep. He sighed. At least the video camera added a few pounds to his lanky frame, making him seem less skinny for once.

  I’ll never hear the end of this.

  The clip started out with him shouting, holding his protest sign, and walking toward the camera. Drew frowned.

  I didn’t know Tori was taping that.

  In the next scene, Drew looked directly into the camera with a mic held to his face as he delivered his message to the president. His shoulders sank when he realized that The Counter View had only used the last thirty seconds of his interview.

  I should never have made that reference to pop culture!

  Drew could kick himself for being so stupid. Of course, he’d wanted his statement to go viral. And he sensed that Tori was specifically looking for something inflammatory to use as clickbait. He knew his complex arguments about data would be too obscure for most people so he sold out and mentioned the famous movie. But he wished he’d thought through the consequences.

  “She cut out everything that came before that. The video gives the wrong impression. I actually meant to communicate the opposite.” Drew’s stomach clenched.

  “What do you mean?” Jay asked.

  “Well, I talked at length about the risks of data and autonomous weapons. I explained in detail why Tolley should reconsider America’s future and the risks of integrating AI into weapons systems. Tori seemed to think it was all interesting. But apparently, she only cared about my answer to her last question. She even cut off the last bit of footage before I finished my point. I didn’t end with ‘humans die’ like a crazy person, yelling at the president about the Terminator.” Drew reached for his coffee and took a long drink, wishing it contained a shot of whiskey.