The Singularity Race by Mark de Castrique Page B

help but marvel at what must be Mullins’ influence. Was the man some kind of intelligence genius?
    MacArthur summoned his chief communications officer. The cable would be short and only for the eyes of the commander of surveillance operations in the Indian Ocean. He gave one name, the name of the man he wanted in his office within thirty-six hours, no questions asked.
    The vice admiral smiled to himself. The more he thought about it, the more he liked his idea. Two separate objectives carried out by the same operative. President Brighton would have the link to Mullins he wanted. MacArthur would have the informant he needed.
    Things could work out quite well.

Chapter Eight
    â€œPaw Paw.”
    Mullins loved hearing the two syllables spoken by his grandson. He couldn’t help but smile at the name christening his grandfather status.
    â€œPaw Paw,” Josh repeated. “Done.” The three-year-old pointed a stubby finger at the bowl now empty of Cheerios.
    â€œGood job, Josh. Paw Paw just has a few more bites.”
    The child and grandfather sat side by side at Kayli’s dining room table in what had become a Saturday morning ritual. Mullins entertained Josh while Kayli talked with her husband stationed somewhere in the Indian Ocean. In port, Kayli and Allen could Skype, but, at sea, video communication was forbidden. This morning their prearranged call would be by POTS—a naval acronym standing for the highly technical term, Plain Old Telephone System.
    Josh started squirming in his booster chair.
    â€œWait. Be polite. Let me finish.” Mullins hurried his last few bites of cereal.
    â€œPaw Paw, PAW Patrol . Josh’s urgent demand to watch his favorite cartoon, PAW Patrol , sent an involuntary shiver down Mullins’ spine. The TV show featured a pack of super hero dogs and started every episode with a theme song that infected the brain. Mullins likened it to the mind-numbing effect of Disney World’s “It’s a Small World” ride and the title song that looped incessantly. When he and Laurie had taken Kayli as a child, it took weeks to knock the tune out of his head.
    â€œPaw Paw, PAW Patrol .” The demand turned into giggles as Josh delighted in the multiple “Paws.”
    â€œKayli!”
    â€œI’m brewing another pot,” came her reply from the kitchen.
    â€œYour call’s at ten, right?”
    Kayli walked into the room. She wore a terry cloth bathrobe loosely cinched around her pajamas and clutched a mug of steaming coffee. “Don’t shout, Dad. We have neighbors, you know. And, yes, ten.”
    â€œWell, I can’t endure another episode of PAW Patrol . I’ll take Josh to the playground and we’ll be back in time for him to talk to Allen.”
    â€œ PAW Patrol ,” Josh petitioned his mother.
    â€œNo PAW Patrol ,” Kayli said. “You’re going on Paw Paw Patrol. Show Paw Paw how you can use the big boy slide.”
    â€œPaw Paw Patrol,” Josh squealed.
    Mullins feared Kayli had just created the name for every outing he and his grandson would ever take. “Let me help you down so your mom can change you out of your pjs.”
    Kayli set her mug on the table. “I’ll do it. You’re not to lift anything with that arm yet.”
    Mullins ignored her and maneuvered his sling enough to grasp the tow-haired boy around the waist with both hands. As far as he was concerned, his grandson could never be too heavy. Two months premature, Josh had weighed less than three pounds and spent his first Christmas in a neonatal intensive care unit.
    Mullins gently set the boy on the floor. “Believe me, honey, that was less painful than the TV show.”
    Ten minutes later, Mullins and Josh walked hand in hand toward the neighborhood playground a few blocks away. Josh had to stop and examine every stone he found on the sidewalk and wave to every car that passed. Mullins didn’t mind. A warm