Major Klasky nodded. “That’s a good question. My understanding is that the code has been passed back and forth between DEVCOM and DARPA in a secure fashion during development. For security reasons, Synotec has no access to the source code, and whenever the software needed to be installed on a unit while in development at their facility,an individual from DEVCOM or DARPA had to physically go to the Synotec lab in Nevada to do that installation.” He added, “Once the software is installed, it’s encrypted. Meaning it cannot simply be pulled off a bot and read by anyone who does not have the decryption key.”
Brodie looked at the man. “Do you have a technical background, Major?”
Klasky laughed. “No, Mr. Brodie. Far from it. But like I said, I’m the op sec guy, and I make it my business to know precisely the kind of thing you asked about. Chain of custody, levels of access. I need to know who knows what, and who’s not supposed to know what.”
Taylor followed up: “When and where was the software installed on the D-17 units at Camp Hayden?”
“It was installed here, on base, before the beginning of operations.”
“By whom?” asked Brodie.
Klasky thought a moment, then smiled. “Well now, after all I just said, you’ve caught me with my pants down. I don’t know. The science team arrived before I did, so I guess you ought to ask one of them.”
The two agents returned to the laptop. Brodie opened it and inserted the thumb drive. A disk volume icon appeared on the desktop, labeledUntitled.
Brodie said to Klasky, “We’ve got it from here, Major.”
Klasky replied, “A password is required to open any file from an external volume.”
“Give us the password.”
“I can’t do that, Mr. Brodie.”
“Fine.” He gestured to the computer, then Klasky leaned over, typed in a password, and opened the volume.
Two files appeared. One was an untitled .txt file, and the other an untitled .zip file. Klasky opened the .txt file and input his password again. A long window of text popped up, which looked like gibberish, at least to Scott Brodie. Then he spotted legible words and phrases amid the gibberish: “target,” “pattern,” “bias for input solutions,” “maximum numberof iterations.” And then he saw a phrase at the top of the text: “Praetorian Neural Network Algorithm.”
Brodie looked at Klasky, who was staring at the screen.
The man asked, “Where did you get this?”
“I can’t divulge that. Do you know what it is?”
“Well, I can read. Looks like the Praetorian source code that Caroline was looking for.”
Brodie added, “Or something made to look like the source code.”
Taylor asked, “Can we assume you don’t know by looking at this if it’s encrypted?”
“That would be a correct assumption. But my guess would be that it’s not since there are legible words. You ought to get Captain Spencer in here.”
“We will not be doing that,” said Brodie. “And you must not tell anyone what you’ve seen here.”
Major Klasky looked at him with his close-set eyes. He didn’t look happy—a field-grade officer with an ego getting pushed around by mere warrant officers. Then he gave a rubbery, gap-toothed smile and raised his hand with the middle three fingers extended. “Scout’s honor.”
Taylor said, “Please open the other file.”
Klasky asked, “Was this drive from Roger?”
Brodie said, “Please open the other file, Major.”
Klasky opened the .zip file and input his password again. It loaded another window, that one containing an untitled video file. Klasky opened the file.
A video player opened showing one wall of the Vault, and thirty D-17s in their storage bays. Standing close to the camera and staring into it was a dark-haired man in his mid-thirties wearing a button-down shirt. It was Roger Ames.
Brodie said, “Major, we need to review this in private.”
Klasky stood there, staring at the image of the dead man. “I… I would like to see this.”
