“We’d be committing diplomatic suicide to exclude an entire delegation from the dinner based on our assumptions,” the Secretary of State interjected. “It’s better to let him through the door as long as we can catch him before he meets his contact.”
“And then what?” the president demanded.
“We continue our search for his contact,” the Secretary of Homeland replied matter-of-factly.
The CIA director spoke up from the end of the table. “Our sources indicate our unwanted dinner guest is a member of the prince’s entourage. All we have to go on, however, is a dimly lit photo our operative was able to shoot during one of this guy’s marketing visits.”
Everyone looked toward the screen at the end of the room where a photo popped up. It was dark, but Ben’s pulse sped up at the challenge the grainy image presented. He was confident VOYEUR, the facial recognition software he’d spent close to ten million dollars of taxpayers’ money refining, would be able to identify the suspect quickly. His fingers twitched around the handle to his laptop case housing the VOYEUR software.
“As you can see, his profile is heavily shadowed,” the CIA director continued.
“Our suspect will be enjoying dessert before any artificial intelligence can identify him from that photo,” the NSA director announced in disgust.
“Not necessarily.”
All eyes turned toward Ben. He’d been impertinent by speaking up, that much was evident by the look on the Secretary of Homeland Security’s face. But they didn’t have time to get into a turf battle with NSA. The artificial intelligence NSA used would take time to pinpoint the suspect. VOYEUR had passed all the field tests demonstrating it could work more rapidly than the technology other agencies were using. It was time to put the system to work.
“You seem confident you can pull this off, Agent . . .” The president looked at Ben as if he was trying to place him.
“Segar, sir. Special Agent Ben Segar. I’m a friend of Dr. Benoit’s.”
“Ah,” President Manning said, recognition dawning as he motioned for Ben to continue.
“I am confident, Mr. President. I’ve finessed the program so that it calculates in nanoseconds what other facial recognition programs take minutes, sometimes hours, to calculate. Unlike other artificial intelligence systems, VOYEUR can even recognize a face at any age in the spectrum. In other words, my system can identify a face from a picture taken years prior. And vice versa.”
The president arched an eyebrow at him. Ben took it as his cue to continue.
“You see, the patterns used in automated facial recognition algorithms don’t correlate to obvious anatomical features such as the eyes, nose or mouth in a one-to-one manner, although they are affected by these features. The algorithms see faces in a way that differs from how we visualize them. VOYEUR is able to use precise mathematical correlations—”
The president held up his hand. “I appreciate your enthusiasm for your work, Agent Segar, but I’m a statesman. I never made it past college calculus. I’m going to have to trust your very capable mathematical mind on this one.” His expression grew steely as he met the eyes of each of his advisors surrounding the table. “I’m going to have to trust all of you.” The president’s gaze landed back on Ben. “See that the person of interest is identified and apprehended for questioning before he gets a finger on a single hors d’oeuvre.”
*
Ben set up his laptop just inside the usher’s office on the first floor. His fingers moved quickly over the keyboard as he logged into the White House’s closed-circuit television feed. He bypassed all the cameras except the two in the makeshift security shed at the bottom of the North Portico steps. With the exception of the heads of state, all the visitors to the dinner would pass through metal detectors at the security checkpoint. Thirty seconds was all he needed to hone in on each image and make a match.
“You realize if this works, you’re sitting on millions of dollars’ worth of proprietary technology?” a voice said at his shoulder.
He wasn’t surprised to see the NSA director breathing down his neck. The director had made his case about artificial intelligence getting into the wrong hands at numerous conferences the two men had attended. The race to perfect and speedup the technology not only existed among countries but between private and public-sector entities within the United States, as well.
“China would likely pay billions for it,” the director continued. “Lord knows they like to keep a close eye on their people.”
Ben could envision hundreds, if not thousands, of potential uses for VOYEUR, some commercial and others decidedly nefarious. And the director was right; someone would pay a lot for the system, if not just the mathematic equations behind it. But he hadn’t been motivated by money when he first starting dabbling with facial recognition software.
He’d been looking for someone.
He’d been looking for her.
Tonight, however, he was looking for a potential cyber-terrorist, he quickly reminded himself. And when he found him, they’d shut down a cell of radicals worldwide. Besides, he needed to admit she was the one puzzle he would never be able to solve anyway. She wasn’t coming back.
Ben ran his fingers over the mousepad, adjusting the recording angle of the two cameras to ensure the best view. The VOYEUR cover page popped up on the screen.
“Wow. She’s quite the looker,” the NSA director said from over Ben’s shoulder. “It always surprises me how you computer geeks end up with a stunner like her.”
The director was assuming Ben had ended up with her. He hadn’t. He clicked over to the closed-circuit feed again.
“She’s just the test face I used to calibrate the software,” he explained to the director. It wasn’t a lie.
“The first guests are rolling up,” Agent Groesch announced via the earpiece Ben wore.
He could hear the rain in the background as thunder rumbled loud enough to nearly drown out the marine band playing in the Cross Hall. The nasty weather wasn’t doing Ben any favors. The Uniformed Division officers likely wanted to hurry guests through in order to keep them out of the rain. Ben might not have even thirty seconds with which to work.
The initial contingent of partygoers began to pass through the security checkpoint. Women in evening gowns followed by men in black-tie filtered past the cameras. He measured the amount of time VOYEUR took to execute the facial recognition against the seven databases it searched. Twenty-one seconds. His program was exceeding even his own wildest expectations. Too bad the knowledge did very little to calm his nerves. Unlike his other covert ops, his name was on this one. Front and center. If it failed, everyone would know who to blame.
The crowd monitoring him grew as Director Worcester joined them at the usher’s desk. Ben reached up and tugged the bow tie loose to keep the sweat from pooling on his neck. He was confident in VOYEUR. But many of the guests passing through the metal detectors were already known entities, their clearance checked and rechecked multiple times before they were even invited to the White House. How long would it take to match a rogue face to the partial photograph the CIA had given him? He sat staring at the screen, his pulse pounding in his ears as he settled in to wait.
“Here comes the prince’s delegation now,” the NSA director said ten minutes later.