As White House Chief of Staff, Cal Dixon was always busy with never a free moment. Yet he managed to slip away to join Task Force X for a late-night meeting to follow up on their progress. The meetings were always scheduled quickly around Dixon’s availability.
He walked into the non-descript room in the bowels of the Washington Metro system. Marguerite Simpson, Megs, was already there with the assembled group.
He sat at the head of the table and looked at Megs. “What do you have?”
“Not much I’m afraid. We–”
Her phone buzzed loudly, which startled her because she was sure she had turned it off as she entered the room. She looked at the screen and saw the caller ID–Unknown.
Who the hell is this? she thought.
“Expecting someone?” Dixon snapped with an edge to his voice, clearly irritated. “I disassembled my phone, which is in my briefcase in the corner of the room.”
“Absolutely not,” she responded quickly. “I know I turned this off on the way in here.”
“I saw you do that,” said one of the people in the room.
“Are you going to answer it?” Dixon prodded.
Hesitantly, she spoke to her caller, “Yes.”
The voice was disguised with a mechanical robot-like sound. “Please put Chief of Staff Dixon on the phone.”
With her eyes wide, Megs looked at Dixon. “It’s for you.” She handed him the phone.
He looked around the room. Everyone was unnerved. “Cal Dixon. Who is this?” he demanded.
“I’m the one that you are looking for Mr. Dixon.”
Dixon’s jaw fell and his mouth hung open. Moments later he gathered himself and said, “How do I know that?”
“Put me on the speaker.”
“Turn on the speaker,” he said to Megs. She did and put it in front of Dixon.
”Go ahead,” Dixon said. Everyone leaned in towards the phone in front of Dixon on the conference room table.
“Dr. Alvin Grace created an artificial intelligence that he named Slim. The capabilities of this technology are almost beyond comprehension. General Benjamin Larkin demanded that Dr. Grace submit Slim to be weaponized. When he resisted, he was poisoned with neurotoxin XF–18, presumably at the direction of Larkin. For those of you who don’t know about the poison, it strikes precisely in ninety days after it is administered. Thus, Dr. Grace is no longer with us. However, I am here, and I am the caretaker of Slim.”
There were shocked looks on everyone’s face including Dixon’s.
Will broke the silence and continued. “From what I can tell, none of you have any knowledge of the facts I just recited. A decision was made to communicate with Task Force X instead of the Situation Room in the White House, because there are people who can’t be trusted in that room, like Larkin.”
“We have all of Dr. Grace’s work, so it’s only a matter of time until we reconstruct it.”
“You don’t. Dr. Grace planted the information, and it will never allow you to reconstruct Slim.”
Dixon felt a tightening in his gut. He had been afraid of that. He looked at Megs and passed her a note.
He knows about Task Force X?
She nodded and shrugged to convey her surprise and helpless feeling.
“The nation has nothing to fear from Slim. I couldn’t say that if it fell into someone else’s control.”
Dixon was extremely anxious. “What are you saying?”
“There are bad people trying to acquire Slim so they can turn it into a weapon.”
Dixon thought for a moment. “You’re talking about Larkin.”
“Certainly, he is a problem. But, there is an effort from the underworld that’s every bit … as enthusiastic as you are to acquire Slim, and their motivations are not in the best interest of the United States.”
Dixon looked around the table. “Do you know who is leading this?”
“Yes. A man they call Black Jack. He is connected to the underworld.”
Dixon cringed. Only very few people knew that name, a name that was often dismissed as a myth.
“Why are you contacting me?”
“That’s an excellent question Mr. Dixon. I want to build trust with you and be of help, if needed.”
Dixon was flabbergasted. “What should I call you?”
There was silence.
“Are you still there?” Dixon asked.
“Yes. You can call me Game Changer.”
“Game Changer, I need to speak to the president. How can I contact you?”
“You can’t”. If you need me, we’ll find a protocol that works. For now, I will contact you tomorrow at midnight.”
“But how will you know … never mind. Midnight it is.” Dixon couldn’t believe the interplay with Game Changer. He had to find the connection to this Black Jack. For some time he had felt something was very wrong. Now he knew his concerns were justified.
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