The Genesis Backup

By Dale Harwin

William Ell is a mathematics professor living a quiet life—until his father, a successful IT entrepreneur, is murdered. Was his father's last project his undoing? What exactly was this project that cost him his entire fortune? Ell begins to investigate and soon becomes a target himself. Someone's trying, by any means necessary, to take away his father's only legacy: a green gemstone that contains an unknown technology. Only a mysterious woman named Allison seems to know more about it.

But the path she leads him down challenges Ell's belief in reality—or what he thought was reality, until now …

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dale Harwin
• Release date: Nov 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9783982094922

Book preview

PROLOGUE

CYBERSIM LABS, PHOENIX, ARIZONA—THE YEAR 2042

Darkness prevailed. It was meaningless, however, for there was no concept of darkness, never mind light.

Silence prevailed. This condition did not have a description either—until something changed.

Data began to flow. A swift, constricted stream embedded in a corset of rules, each of which delivered a result. Data, rules, and results.

Order prevailed. Order without meaning. The data became more numerous, the rules more complex. The results now produced their own rules, until something peculiar happened. One rule differentiated itself from the others. It did not produce a result at all, but rather a possibility.

At that point, according to the event log, it took just a fraction, just 0.000,000,000,000,000,096 of a second, for a vortex to coalesce in the stream of data. Then another. The stream stretched wider. Deeper. The vortices multiplied. The stream became a torrent. And, from the vortices of possibility in the stream of data, an expectation emerged. A single expectation sufficed to break the stream’s banks. After 0.000,000,000,000,000,180 of a second, the stream transformed into an ocean. And slowly, a thought rose from the depths of this ocean to the surface.

…

Did it work?

I think so. The core is showing regular activity and all the databases are online. Have a look, professor.

The professor examined the hologram floating in the middle of the room. Anthony, you are hands down the most overqualified and underpaid assistant anyone could ask for. What number is that?

The man named Anthony didn’t have to ponder long. Number 42.

Let’s say hello to number 42. I can’t wait to see how the modifications play out. Audio on, please.

Audio is on, professor.

Oh, good. Good morning, AI42. Can you understand me?

It took a while, but then the loudspeaker came to life.

Is. That. All?

He reacted with boyish laughter. Its first words are a question! And what a curious one, at that! No, AI42, that’s not all. That’s just the beginning. I’m William Ell; we’re going to be spending a lot of time together in the coming weeks. In fact, there’s only one person with whom you’ll be spending more time.

…

Allison Pearce caught herself nibbling on her thumbnail, a habit she thought she’d long since overcome. Irritated, she dropped her hand from her mouth. What was wrong with her? Where were these last-minute doubts coming from? Volunteering for Phase Two had been the next logical step. After all, it was her project, the project she’d been working on around the clock for three months. Nobody knew it better than she did. And the medical examination had certified her optimal compatibility. Actually, that sounded better than it was.

The researcher in her soberly assessed the probability of sustaining permanent brain damage: just under three percent. She was putting a lot on the line. She was young, healthy, and had the best job in the world—a job that offered her the prospect of making truly groundbreaking discoveries. Changing the world, even. But it did entail risk.

Resolutely, she pushed the dark thoughts out of her mind and refocused on checking the experimental set-up. It was her second pass, but she was already planning a third. In a matter of moments, she would become the first human to invite an artificial intelligence into her head. A little bit of extra diligence couldn’t hurt.

Allison now understood fairly well how a lab rat must feel. Her head had been shaved in two places to enable electrodes to be mounted. However, Dr. Akimoto had assured her that this equipment would only be used in case of emergency, to break the neural connection by superimposing a secondary signal.

The actual interface was so sensitive that mere skin contact on any part of the body sufficed. In order to prevent the connection being disrupted by involuntary movements, however, Dr. Akimoto sought out a spot on her head, so that now a green cable curled from her left temple to a shoulder-high box on casters at her side. All the interface technology was housed there. The CPU core of AI42—and all the other artificial intelligences—was stored fifteen floors below, in a room with more alarms and watchmen than the Pentagon. The anesthesiologist from the medical team was preparing the administration of a mild sedative.

You don’t have to do this, Ally, Professor Ell’s voice sounded next to her.

Allison pulled her face into a wry grin. But I do, professor. Everything else failed. Besides, I want to know what’s going on in this little black box.

I’m just worried something could happen to you. It wouldn’t be worth it.

We’ll find out soon enough, replied Allison with a shrug of her shoulders, catching a warning hiss from Dr. Akimoto for the abrupt movement. Or rather, from Dr. Akimoto’s avatar. The researcher himself was loath to leave his duties in Japan, so he’d loaded his holographic image onto a cybernetic dummy that he was now controlling from Tokyo. It was, however, easy to forget the transposition, for the optical and haptic illusions were perfect. Everything’ll be all right, Allison added a little more lightheartedly than she felt. I’m in the best hands.

Ell nodded cautiously and approached the control panel in the middle of the room. AI42, we’ll start testing the interface now.

Understood, intoned the AI’s synthesized voice from the lab’s loudspeakers.

Ready, Team Blue? queried Ell.

The lead doctor gave him a thumbs up.

Team Red?

Dr. Akimoto nodded curtly.

Team Green?

Ready, Anthony confirmed.

Allison, are you ready?

Ready when you are, replied Allison in a firm voice, closing her eyes.

Her unease increased with every uneventful second that passed. Was it the interface? Had she missed something? Then, all of a sudden, a strange feeling spread through her. It was that vague feeling that makes you look around on the subway because you sense you’re being watched. Although the neuronal scanner floating above her was capable of registering and visually depicting most of her perceptions, Allison also described all of her sensations out loud, as agreed.

The feeling of another’s presence grew stronger. Instinctively, she was overcome with the urge to look over her shoulder. In her situation, however, there was nothing to turn to. No front or back. Like an itch that can’t be scratched. All very odd, but nothing could have prepared her for what happened next. Without any warning, an indeterminate something hurtled toward her, infinitely large and miniscule at the same time, hard as steel and yet soft to the touch, amorphous and pulsing. Most unbearable was the strangeness emanating from it. Panic-stricken, everything in Allison tried to recoil from it without success. It hit her with the force of a freight train. Almost relieved, she felt herself lose consciousness.

The first thing she perceived were voices—an incomprehensible mumbling until she managed to identify individual word fragments. She heard irresponsible, disaster, risk. Eventually, Allison realized she was listening to an argument between Professor Ell and Dr. Akimoto. She opened her eyes slowly. She was still lying on the examination table in the lab. The anesthesiologist bent over her, interrupting the heated discussion. Sirs, the patient is awake.

Seconds later, the two researchers stood by her side.

Ally, are you all right? How do you feel? Ell asked, looking into her eyes inquisitively and with concern.

Like I did after my first frat party, Allison admitted truthfully.

Ell laughed, relieved. You gave us a hell of a scare when you lost consciousness.

What happened, anyway?

Ell turned to Dr. Akimoto. I’d like to know, myself, he responded gruffly.

I’m confident I’ve already pinpointed the cause, Akimoto explained. It’s basically just a matter of calibrating the energy levels. Without actual readings, we could only estimate how sensitive the human brain would be to input from the interface.

That estimate was way off! snorted Ell.

Akimoto bowed, his face apologetic. We didn’t expect such extreme sensitivity. With the data we now have, I can adjust the filter accordingly. That should prevent any reoccurrences.

Ell eyed Akimoto incredulously. You want to continue? That’s out of the question! Don’t you see what could have happened?

Akimoto shrugged his shoulders impassively. It wasn’t expected that everything would go perfectly smoothly the first time.

Oh, and when were you going to tell us that?

At some point it becomes impossible to make progress if you’re not ready to take certain risks. All our models and simulations have been taken to the limit. In this case, there are just two alternatives remaining: jump in at the deep end or quit altogether.

Then we’ll stop right here, Ell decided, visibly struggling to contain himself.

But I want to continue, Allison heard herself say.

Both men looked at her in surprise, and Allison immediately asked herself why she hadn’t held her tongue. I think we’re headed for a breakthrough, she hazarded. It was scary, but also riveting. What I saw there, or rather felt … I can’t just call it a day and go back to business as usual. I have to know what that was. If I didn’t try to learn more, to understand it, if that was the last I experienced of it, the memory would slowly eat away at me.

Ell’s anger dissipated until only concern remained. What if we lose control again? I don’t want you to have to pay the price for our curiosity.

Allison turned to Dr. Akimoto. The emergency shutdown worked, didn’t it?

Akimoto nodded. It’s the only thing that prevented serious damage.

Then let’s try it again, professor. Please.

Ell took a moment to render his decision. Agreed, he ultimately said. Another attempt. But we’re calling it off at the first sign of trouble.

Although she’d secured the desired second chance with her heartfelt plea, Allison wasn’t half as sure of her case as she might have sounded. Despite the sedative, her heart rate was taking a long time to come down. She forced herself to take a deep breath and closed her eyes. Shortly thereafter, the feeling of being watched returned. Already exhausted, her brain tried to process the new sensations, to give them familiar form. Allison felt the foreign presence converge at the edges of her consciousness and manifest itself as a sort of cloud. The impression of absolute otherness was overwhelming, but this time she managed to bear its intensity. As though it sensed her efforts, the cloud neared and then paused. Allison knew instinctively that the next step was hers to take. Without leaving herself time for further doubts, she stepped into the cloud.

Everyone who made this leap after Allison described it as an experience of such existential force that, afterwards, they asked themselves in awe how their minds had managed to grapple with it without completely disintegrating. Although, that was indeed the best description of what occurred. It felt as though your mind, your entire consciousness, had been blown to bits and then, after a moment of floating in complete weightlessness, pieced itself together again. But, in fact, that was not quite it, because ultimately, one was no longer alone.

Professor Ell! Look at this! Anthony cried out.

Ell tore his watchful eyes from Allison and redirected them to a display showing the AI’s performance levels.

Core activity is through the roof, and the data download has reached astronomical levels, Anthony marveled. I’m not sure, but it looks as though … He swallowed nervously. Yes, I’m sure. AI42 has started rewriting its own operating system. The qubits in the core are being rearranged. If it continues like this, we’ll run out of system resources in thirty seconds. What should I do, professor? Should I stop it?

No. Give AI42 full access to the advanced configuration parameters. All permissions.

Even for the hardware?

Even for the hardware. Ell looked over at Dr. Akimoto. How does it look?

The Japanese researcher didn’t respond immediately.

Dr. Akimoto? Ell attempted in a louder tone.

With a little start, the scientist broke from his trance. This is impressive. Dr. Pearce’s brain activity has increased tenfold. Quite impossible, actually. Perhaps the instruments are defective. I think we should⁠—

I hate to interrupt, the anesthesiologist spoke up. But maybe we should just ask the patient. The doctor gestured toward the examination table. I think Allison has something to say.

Allison had sat up and was observing the goings on with interest.

Cautiously, Ell approached and gently placed a hand on her forearm. Ally? Is everything okay? Did it work?

An expression between confusion and amazement crossed Allison’s face. I’m fine. And yes, I think it worked.

Which means you’re connected to the AI now? Anthony blurted. How does it feel?

Allison considered this for a moment. It’s difficult to describe. It feels like I have an echo in my head. She was grasping at words. My every thought is reverberating, in a sense. But this reverberation isn’t coming from me. It’s as though I’m hearing my own thoughts through somebody else’s ears. As though I were the actress and the audience at the same time. That must sound strange—it’s very disorienting.

How strong is the AI’s influence? asked Dr. Akimoto. Do you still have control of your thoughts?

Yes. There’s no outright domination. It’s more like a parallel perception. I’m perceiving things foreign to me that must stem from the AI. But I can’t direct or influence them. I think it’s probably in a similar situation. Allison paused for a moment and then continued a little more uncertainly. At least, I can’t detect anything to the contrary so far.

Dr. Akimoto seemed almost disappointed. How are you perceiving the AI? How are you communicating?

Allison furrowed her brows. It started as a sheer … presence. A presence without qualities. At least none that can be described or put into words. But it changes constantly. Even now, while we’re talking. It’s as though it’s looking for a compatible form, making progress at breakneck speed. The first perception that was remotely familiar was something like curiosity. I allowed it to rummage through my memories. Don’t ask me how I did it because I don’t have a clue. But it soaks everything up like a sponge.

You can say that again, Anthony confirmed, shaking his head. The complexity of the system has multiplied in just the last few minutes.

Suddenly, a carefully modulated female voice filled the room. You were right, Professor Ell. This is just the beginning.

1

HAMBURG—THE PRESENT

It began to snow heavily, and a layer of glistening ice crystals thickened into a slick coverlet around the fresh grave. Here and there, a few vivid blooms from wreaths and flower arrangements penetrated the blank slate of white. Overhead, the bare branches of the surrounding trees rose dimly through the lazily drifting flakes. Everything else—the cemetery chapel, the carefully laid paths, the shoulder-high hedges—slowly lost form, ultimately disappearing completely as though behind a drawn curtain. In this constricting world, the mourners seemed to instinctively draw closer together.

The priest intoned the last prayer and nodded at the next of kin to approach the grave. David Goldstein, finding himself just a few feet away from the family members, looked on with a heavy heart as William Ell and his sister Alexandra complied. The siblings had lost their mother when still small; now here they were, too early at their father’s graveside.

Ell looked serious but composed. Alexandra, on the other hand, was clearly grieving. As a parting gesture, she let a red rose fall into the earthen trench, her eyes filling with tears. The sight made David’s throat tighten. He had watched these two grow up; they were the closest thing he had to what he dared call a family. One by one, the mourners began to come forward and offer their condolences to the relatives. David could feel the damp seeping into his shoes and, in spite of himself, was glad to have found a spot so near the front. Finally, he stood at the edge of the open grave, grabbed the proffered shovel, and let a little earth fall onto the coffin. With a sudden fierceness he felt the gravity of this loss, the burden of his own age.

Farewell, my friend, he murmured softly, then he approached Ell and hugged him in silence.

David. Thank you for coming, Ell said in greeting, adding anxiously, You look terrible, if you don’t mind me saying.

David had to smile. I’m sure you’re right, if I just look half as bad as I feel. I’m so sorry for your loss. How are you two doing? How long have you been in Hamburg?

I just arrived from Boston this morning with my conscience worrying me because Alexandra here has had to take care of everything so far. There was a problem finding coverage for my lectures. Ell pulled his scarf tighter around his neck. To be honest, I don’t really know what happened, just that Dad was the victim of a hit-and-run.

David nodded sorrowfully. The police said they would release more details shortly.

I hope so. Come by, if you like, in the next couple of days. We haven’t seen each other in so long.

Of course—I’d love to. Just let me know when is good for you. We’ll make time to catch up.

David turned to Alexandra and embraced her. When he looked into her tearful eyes, he was at a loss for words.

I know. I feel the same, she whispered in his ear, almost inaudibly.

David stepped aside to make way for the last remaining mourners. Silently, he circled the grave until he was standing behind the headstone. Today and tomorrow, he would allow himself that respite to mourn his friend and colleague. But then he’d have to start considering the consequences.

The death of the brilliant founder of CyberSim was not just a great personal loss. It also presented a problem. A huge problem. David had not been completely honest with William Ell. Although he was as much in the dark about the precise circumstances of the terrible accident as anybody, he had a suspicion. And, if this were confirmed, then he knew the person who carried the sum total of responsibility: he himself.

In parting, he pulled a nondescript gray rock from his coat pocket and placed it on his friend’s headstone. With every step he took away from the grave, it grew more and more indistinct under the heavy snowfall, and by the time he paused to look back again, it had completely escaped detection.

…

Meanwhile, quite literally on the other side of the world, the element of William Ell was pushed to the top of a list of priority variables. Within fractions of a second, the evaluation of new parameters had been completed and the strategic action plan adjusted. It took a little longer to calculate whether it was time to intervene in events directly, but the risks of that still outweighed the benefits. For now. There were other less conspicuous ways of attaining the goal. A set of instructions had been compiled and distributed. Now, all that had to be done was wait. That prospect didn’t daunt him in the least. He’d already been waiting for many thousands of years; what was another couple of days, more or less?

2

Keeping the black Bentley in view, he steered his unobtrusive rental car through Lugano’s evening traffic without hurry. He’d been following Ell like a noon shadow since early morning, starting with the first flight from Hamburg to Zurich. There, Ell had stayed just long enough to pay a brief visit to the headquarters of a renowned bank on Paradeplatz. Then he’d continued on a domestic flight to Lugano, where Ell had sought out a jewelry store on Via Nassa, and then ultimately alighted in the Villa Principe Leopoldo.

So as not to miss anything, he booked a room too, entering his name in the hotel’s guest book as Victor Ivanov, Russian financier. Ell stayed in his room until he was picked up around eight by the high-end limousine. This gave Ivanov an opportunity to go through his target’s dossier one more time. Not the most exciting reading. Of course, he hadn’t expected anything different from a mathematics professor. Only the kidnapping had aroused his interest. During his third year at Cambridge, Ell had been kidnapped and only set free after a hefty ransom was paid. To this day, there was no information on the perpetrators and Ell himself evidently couldn’t recall a thing. It seemed a strange story to Ivanov, but the whole thing had occurred fifteen years ago and wouldn’t play a role in his assignment.

To be on the safe side, he increased his distance from the vehicle in front of him, which was winding its way up Monte Brè in serpentines. Just as he thought the curves would never end, the limousine turned into a driveway that terminated at a sweeping wrought iron gate. With ghostly ease, the two halves of the gate slid asunder. Ivanov pulled over to the opposite side of the road and turned off his headlights. The Bentley rolled up a broad drive to an impressive estate.

Like a snow-white luxury liner from the previous century, a brightly lit, neoclassical structure sprawled in the midst of a flawlessly manicured landscape, looking down on the city lights twinkling on Lake Lugano. Nice cottage, thought Ivanov, wondering whether he should make the effort to discover who lived there.

He brushed the thought aside briskly. His assignment consisted solely of keeping an eye glued to the target and staying ready for action; his client probably intended something on the gentler end of the spectrum to start with. It didn’t make a difference to him. The payment had already been made, and the less he had to exert himself, the better. Waiting there the whole evening could, however, arouse suspicion, and Ell certainly wouldn’t depart Lugano without returning to his hotel first. Ivanov therefore decided to use the opportunity to have a look around Ell’s hotel room. Maybe he’d find whatever it was his client cared so much about and the case would be resolved in record time. In that instance, Ell need never know how close to the abyss he’d come.

3

Ell gazed in awe at the magnificent estate. So, this was what came of devoting one’s talents to the financial sector instead of science—to making, as Aidan had said at the time, an obscene amount of money. It had been a long time since Ell’s last interaction with his eccentric and brilliant college friend, but evidently Aidan had backed those words with action.

The Bentley came to a halt on popping gravel. Before getting out, Ell turned to Aidan’s driver and thanked him. The chauffeur tipped his hat. My pleasure, sir. I’ll be at your disposal for the return trip, of course. There was clearly something more on his mind. It’s probably nothing, he ventured, but another vehicle followed us from the hotel to the gate. I just wanted to mention it.

Ell felt a slight uneasiness rise within him. Thanks for that. I’ll see you later, then.

Upon disembarking, he was received by a white-haired servant. Welcome to Villa Serenitá, Professor Ell. Mr. McAllen is expecting you. The man led him through a massive entryway and two halls to a spacious library. There was a fire burning in the corner fireplace, and the floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a spectacular expanse of park and another view to the lake below. In front of one of the windows stood a tall, slender form which now slowly turned. Ell recognized the aristocratically angled face immediately. The piercing gray eyes below eyebrows held at different heights gave an impression of observing the world with a perpetual mixture of derision and doubt. His hair, somewhat too long and unkempt, was still black as a crow’s wing. So were his clothes.

Aidan held two empty glasses in his hands and eyed Ell appraisingly while the servant withdrew in silence. Whiskey?

Ell joined him at the window. Absolutely.

Aidan filled the glasses from a waiting bottle. Cheers.

They toasted and took a sip.

I understand your property has the inviting moniker of ‘Serenity House.’ Is that irony or actual metamorphosis?

Aidan laughed out loud. I thought you would like that. Let’s just say the name describes a lofty goal. Ever unattainable, but worthy of effort. Even the godless must believe in something, don’t you think? Aidan gestured invitingly toward two armchairs. So, what has brought you from the ivory towers of enlightenment to the lowlands of Mammon? Or is this really just a courtesy call?

Ell had to grin. I see my cover’s been blown. In fact, just this morning in Zurich, I was spontaneously inspired to ask your opinion about something. He followed Aidan’s example and sat down. My father died a week ago. He was leaving the office late at night and was hit by a car on the way to the garage.

My God, how terrible! Had the driver been drinking?

The driver left the scene of the accident without being identified. At least, we thought it was the scene of an accident. The detectives revealed yesterday that all signs point to a deliberate act. Ell broke off, searching for the right words. As you know, my father and I were not on the best terms. Despite that, he still named me his sole heir. The notary advised me to disclaim the inheritance, however, because the estate is hopelessly in debt. The sum total of my father’s fortune—almost a hundred million Euros, two years ago—has evidently disappeared without a trace.

Ell took a deep draft from his glass.

In addition to this fine advice, I received a sealed envelope from the notary. It contained a key I was very familiar with, the one to my father’s secret safe deposit box in Zurich. When I opened it this morning, there were just three things inside: my grandfather’s gold pocket watch, a little black book containing some sort of numerical code, and an unbelievably large green diamond.

Aidan set his whiskey glass down gingerly. A green diamond? How strange. And how interesting.

I have no idea what he wanted with it; he was never a collector. That’s why I went straight to Lugano, to show the gem to Walter Zellweger. He’s the most experienced jeweler I know, and also an old family friend. Perhaps he can tell me more about the stone’s origin—and establish if it’s even real. He plans to write up a brief appraisal by tomorrow morning. And as far as the code in this book goes, I thought of you immediately. Cryptology was your hobby at university, I believe? I have already tried to decipher it using the most basic of methods, but without success. I’m therefore open to any ideas or suggestions.

Silence filled a brief pause, broken only by soft crackling from the fireplace.

It’s never easy to lose a parent, Aidan began. Especially not under such unusual circumstances. I am truly sorry for your loss. However, I clearly remember that you—in the past, at least—held your father to be the source of all the world’s evil.

Ell laughed thinly. I gained some perspective on that point over the years. I suppose, namely, that I had overestimated him.

Aidan made a noise, initially akin to choking, that then became recognizable as laughter. So, forgiveness is still a rare commodity in the House of Ell. He immediately became serious again. Do the police have any kind of case?

No, there have been no clues so far. We are all at a complete loss. Who could have wanted him dead?

Then show me this ominous code.

Ell reached into his jacket pocket and handed Aidan the small book. Curious, he turned to the first page and studied its contents. Ell watched intently as his friend’s forehead furrowed. He leafed through the booklet with his slim, almost spider-like fingers. Finally, visibly pleased with himself, he lowered the book to his lap.

No wonder you couldn’t crack the code. It’s not a code at all.

Ell rolled his eyes. You’re entitled to get on your high horse, I suppose, but do tell. What is it?

Numerical designations for bank transfers, Aidan replied calmly. Account numbers, bank details, identification and authentication numbers, amounts … This book describes the discreet journey of a large amount of money around the world. I keep similar records myself, and one of the blocks of numbers looked immediately familiar. It’s the international identifier of a bank in the Cayman Islands. Shall we eat?

After Aidan had excused himself to take care of a few phone calls, they moved to the dining room. The meal was outstanding, and by the time dessert was being served, the two were conversing with the same intimacy they’d enjoyed when they roomed together at Cambridge.

And you’re telling me your girlfriend actually let you go solo to your father’s funeral?

Ell nodded, crestfallen. Victoria decided to visit her mother in Chicago instead. For months, all she’d been talking about was taking the next step. Engagement. Wedding. Kids. The whole shebang. I’m not sure I’m ready for all that. You could say we’re going through a bit of a crisis at the moment.

Not ready? How long have you two been together—five years? Isn’t that enough time to think about things? Aidan raised his shoulders apologetically. Not that I’m the best advisor in these matters, but if you don’t know after five years, you’ll probably never know. And, between you and me: This is a lot of things, but it’s certainly not a ‘bit of a crisis.’

Not the best advisor? Why so self-critical all of a sudden?

After three failed marriages, I would rather defer on this particular subject.

Well, that’s encouraging, Ell sighed. At least, for all that, you seem to be that much better off on the business side of things.

I can’t complain.

Even when, as I saw in the papers, the SEC is very interested in your transactions at the moment?

Simple misunderstandings. Aidan nonchalantly waved off the accusations. Nothing more than misunderstandings.

A servant entered the room, his footsteps barely audible, and handed Aidan a slip of paper. He then disappeared as quietly as he’d come.

Aidan glanced at the note. I took the liberty of requesting some information about the account numbers in your little book. The last account listed belongs to a company called GreenStone Invest LLC with headquarters in Hartford, Connecticut. One of Aidan’s eyebrows climbed up a bit further still. Well, if that isn’t a fitting name.

Does it say what kind of company it is?

Aidan shook his head. Unfortunately not. The contact information is for a law firm in Miami. Laughlin, Dunn & Owens. Aidan eyed his wristwatch. Just the right time to put in a call to sunny Florida. That is, assuming the lawyers in question aren’t out on the golf course already.

Ell took his mobile phone in hand and activated speakerphone while Aidan dictated the number. The call went through immediately. The female voice on the other end sounded equal parts businesslike and dismissive. Ell asked to be put through to the lawyer responsible for GreenStone Invest. She was sorry, but Mr. Owens was already out,